Page 39 of Surge

“At my station, Surge eager to work.”

He wished he had eyes on her. “Caldwell, have eyes out?”

“Eight street cameras are still feeding into my computer. I see all three of you.”

Garrett rolled back his tense shoulders and leaned against the concrete blocks of the law building, settling into his chill undercover personality.

Zim stood next to him, tossing a smiley-face stress ball between his hands. Garrett shook his head with a chuckle. Zim smiled, tossed it high in the air, caught it behind his back.

“Your six, Bear,” Caldwell said. “Coming out of the law building. Rashid appears to be armed. Bald, trim beard. Cream shirt. Black pants. Tariq behind him. Red collared shirt. Wire-rimmed glasses. Slick black hair.”

“Got it.”God, help me focus.

The two Sachaai approached.

Garrett met them. “Rashid?”

The tall man nodded, his gaze sweeping the area, likely making sure they were safe, with Tariq staying directly behind his boss. “You’re the clay pot food guy. Andre told me you said the sample was ‘the real thing.’”

“I did. I’m pleased. Ready for the product.”

Acting casual, Zim moved to Tariq, held out his hand. “Who’s this?”

Tariq just stood there.

Zim dropped his hand. “You make the chem vials?”

Tariq’s black eyes lasered in on Zim, whose face was a mask of stone as he took another step forward.

Man wasn’t going to talk.

And thankfully, Zim got the hint and backed off, leaning against the wall.

Clearly not pleased with that interaction, Rashid shifted closer. Extended his hand, and when Garrett took it, the guy yanked him forward. “Before we make this deal, understand that I have gunmen in place.”

He and Zim had weapons too.

“I see three, Bear,” Caldwell comm’d.

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” Garrett said, totally chill.

“I like to know who I’m doing business with.”

Garrett shrugged. “Like you said, I’m Clay Pot. Anonymity helps keep me under radars.”

Rashid scoffed. “I am not afraid of being caught.”

“You must be. You showed up with gunmen. And Hakim is a coward too, sending you to do his business.”

The metallicshinkof a weapon chambering a round drew Garrett’s gaze to Tariq, who now held a Glock to the side. Fourth gunman.

“Bear, I think he’s testing you,” Caldwell said.

Like Garrett needed the spook to tell him that. But the idea of Rogue a block away shot to the front of his mind. “What’s the problem?”

“Youneed to know whoyou’redealing with—someone strong, willing to do the dirty job.”

Garrett held the guy’s gaze, knowing he was vetting him. “I’m here for the goods, not you. We can deal and I’m out of here.” Besides, the man in front of him was not the man his sights were set on. “If Hakim were so strong, he’d come do this deal himself.”

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