Page 94 of Gem Warfare

Garrett sat, rewinding until he saw our car pulling into the forecourt. Then he rewound another minute. The pumps were all empty. A blue sedan was in the temporary parking spaces. A man walked out of the gas station and over to the sedan and climbed into the driver’s side. He pulled out seconds before our car pulled in and we slowed to a stop at the pump nearest the shop.

I watched us discuss what we wanted as we remained seated. A red hatchback pulled into the pump opposite and a short black woman hopped out. Garrett got out and unhooked the hose, then I walked into the mini-mart. A moment later, the internal camera picked me up browsing the candy counter.

An SUV pulled into the temporary parking space and a couple got out and headed for the shop, then a motorcycle came in and parked at the pump the red hatchback vacated.

Garrett replaced the hose and headed inside.

Not seconds later, the motorcyclist walked over to our car, stooped and disappeared from view. I counted thirty seconds until he circled the front, taking moments to fiddle with each wheel before strolling back to his motorcycle, swinging his leg over and riding off.

“Can I send this to my email?” asked Garrett, looking over his shoulder at Dave.

“Sure, it’s all digital.”

Garrett tapped the keyboard, then stood. “Thanks,” he said. “Appreciate your time.”

“See what you wanted?” asked Dave.

“Someone tampered with our vehicle,” he said.

“Sorry to hear it. I don’t know if that’s ever happened here before. Is the jerk on the motorcycle still around? I don’t recall anyone wearing a helmet coming inside.”

“No, he’s long gone. I doubt he’ll be back,” said Garrett.

“Glad to hear it,” said Dave.

We trooped out, silent until we were inside Solomon’s SUV. “Any idea who that was?” asked Solomon.

Garrett looked at me.

“I don’t know,” I said, disappointed. “I thought it was a man. The shape, the way he walked, but beyond that. I don’t know.”

“Could he be Gideon Black?” persisted Garrett.

“I don’t know,” I repeated.

“Seems the right height and physique,” said Solomon. “But there are thousands of men in the city who match that.”

“So we’re back to square one. We know someone tampered with the car. We now know it was a man. We just don’t know who or why,” I said.

“The why has to be the case,” said Garrett. “This was clearly targeted. He rode in, knew exactly which car to target and did it quickly and efficiently. He’s done it before.”

“I didn’t see a motorcycle behind us at any point,” I said.

“Then we should assume we were being tracked before the sabotage.”

“That’s creepy,” I said.

“We should all be careful until we get to the bottom of this,” said Solomon. He got out of the car, walked around it, stooping,checking carefully and then returned to the driver’s seat. “We’re most likely clean but I’ll make a more thorough check at the agency. Lexi, are you open to carrying a tracker on your person at all times?”

“I don’t mind,” I said.

Solomon reached for his backpack in the footwell and pulled out a small box.

“You just happen to have trackers with you?” asked Garrett.

“You never know when you’re going to need one,” said Solomon, handing me a small device on a keychain. He pulled out his phone and fired off a text. “Attach that to a belt loop and keep it on you at all times. We’ll monitor you from the agency.”

“What about Garrett?” I asked.

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