the smuggler’s bible


The dead letter box is empty. Kapono weaves through the streets to the hotel, down to the basement and out through the garage. Walks from there to third fallback, a café by the tracks. He ignores the looks from the other diners. Operational jitters, he thinks. The payphone on the wall rings at exactly six. A voice begins speaking when he answers.

“Bad news. Everything’s finished. Not even a scrap of the network left.”

Kapono pauses, then, “I’ll head for the border, get out before I’m blown.”

“You aren’t listening,” the voice says. “I’m telling you that you are blown.”