Page 54 of Mayfly

“Anders never leaves me suspect surprises in random lockers.”

“It’s a bribe.”

“Who the fuck am I bribing?”

“The night guard of Hayward and Sons’ scrap and auto recycling. It’s just across from the abandoned grain silo.”

“Are you telling me I had to cancel my holiday for a goddamn informant meeting? Any dumb fuck could have done this shit.”

“Jude—”

“No! You painted this like a job only I could do. A takedown. A fugitive handover.”

“We needed a local.”

“Half the fucking organization is local.”

“An East London local.”

“Fuck you. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“He went to the same juvie as yo—”

He fucked up.

Issak’s deafening regret roars through the receiver.

The silence stretches, but I can hear the heaviness of his breathing.

I lean on the bedside with both hands. “Something smells.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I want back up.”

“There’s no time.” The sudden timidness to his voice makes me smirk.

“So you do it.”

“It’s a simple in and out. It—it won’t take more than ten minutes.”

“I want backup.”

“Look,” Issak says bluntly and with a lot more backbone. “We almost lost him. The guy didn’t want to talk to any cops or agents. When he started muttering about young offenders, we had no other choice.”

“This is sounding a lot less like a simple intel mission by the second. If this guy is so concerned, why the fuck am I meeting him at his job where there’ll be cameras?”

“You aren’t.”

“Issak. I swear to god, if you say—”

“Millenium Mills.”

The urge to punch my phone is so strong that I can feel my knuckles turning white from how tight I’m gripping the table. “I’m not James-fucking-Bond. I’m not invincible. I don’t have weapons built into my suit. And I sure as hell don’t go alone to meet people in giant abandoned warehouses.”

“You do if you want to keep your job.”

I know he’s baiting me, and my resignation is on the tip of my tongue, ready to call his bluff. I’ve got enough money saved and I can work as private security anywhere in the world. But just like it’s always done, my hero complex pulls me back in. “I want an extra month’s leave.”

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