the smuggler’s bible

Nor

Nor descends from the plaza and climbs into a sleek black car. Someone hands him a drink.

“Well, is it as bad as it sounds?”

“A real fuck up. Best in class.”

“Did we lose anything? Irreplaceable, I mean.”

“We had a warning, although it barely qualified as such. Some of our people were just sprinting out the back when they knocked the door off its hinges.”

There is a pause. Ice clinks in a glass. “So, regarding our exposure—”

“They have it all, or near enough. Assume from this point on that we’re all playing with the same hand.”