the smuggler’s bible

Sakshi

Heights are, like, the worst, so Sakshi gets down on her belly and crawls to the edge to peer over. It’s better than she thought. Thirty feet maybe to the first balcony. If she misses that, well, the numbers creep a little, sure. But thinking that way doesn’t do anybody any good.

“We okay?”

“Plenty of rope,” Sakshi says.

“What’s our plan B? For egress? Chutes are no good, too windy. I saw a guy once—man, it was like a bug hitting a windshield.”

“The stairs.” Sakshi squirms away from the edge, sweating. “Jesus Christ, we’ll take the stairs.”