the smuggler’s bible

Malkin

“It’s very clever,” Malkin says, leaning over the concrete barrier, peering at the street through binoculars. “This cell was buried so deep we’d never have dug them out. Not with analysts like back in the day, and certainly not the two of us.”

“But it’s Pale’s city.”

“That’s right. And to a man like Pale, homefield is the only advantage.”

“All right, so we found them.” Lowen flicks a beetle off the cement. It wobbles in the air and buzzes away angrily. “What’s our approach?”

“To my knowledge,” Malkin says, “They’ve still never invented anything better than the front door.”