the smuggler’s bible

Nor

Nor steps out of the elevator flanked by his staff. Their heels click in unison on the scuffed grey tile of the acceess corridor.

“Sweep?”

“Cameras, but only the standard security net, nothing targeted. They’re being extremely polite.”

“It will have occurred to the tabellarius that his administrative council recently expended great sums of blood and treasure, all to be the ones in charge of an immensely fucked up situation.”

The door to the garage slides open as they approach. The cars are waiting in a neat black line. “And anyway,” Nor says, “a little courtesy doesn’t cost a thing.”