Page 36 of Radar

No hit.

Xander felt zero relief.

Glancing around, he saw a man watching him in the mirror, a slight frown between his eyes.

The stalls were full, and Xander wasn’t about to whip out his dick and take a leak as a cover. That seemed too vulnerable a position to put himself into, so he opted to wash his hands.

To keep Radar’s tail free from being trod upon by men’s feet, he signaled Radar under the counter. Soaping up and scrubbing his hands together, Xander used the time to scan for any place that Orest could have put a case that would have gone unnoticed. Just as Xander came to the conclusion that it had to be under the sink, Radar was tapping his foot.

Xander bent down and saw the case. Horror slid up his thighs into his ass, where he clenched it tight to keep it from rising higher into his system.

He messaged a picture of his findings.

There was an immediate ping in return.

Hiro:Sit with it and see if it’s a pass. I’ll get someone there in the next 90 minutes.

Xander:I’m not cool with that timeline.

Hiro:Is it ticking?

Xander:Funny.

Hiro:What does Radar say?

Xander:Electronics. I should walk this out to a big field somewhere. We’ll stay with it, but I can’t have a Zoric family briefcase anywhere near a population center. We need a bomb team that can try to keep this thing intact and not blow it up. I doubt it’s a bomb. Radar isn’t picking up any explosive scents. But if it’sgot some component of the machine, we can’t lose the opportunity.

Hiro:Or it’s neither bomb nor death machine. But it can’t be nothing. They could have planned a brush past, and the person’s plane was late. If that’s the case, I’d like to know who the player is. Sit tight.

Xander:Risk too high. What’s inside could look innocuous enough. He did get through security with it. With York in the hospital, reasons undetermined, I’m not leaving this out for the public to find.

Hiro:Yeah, Orest could assume that if someone other than the intended recipient saw it, they’d call security. Security would take it out to the field and explode it without investigating the contents.

Xander:Plausible.

Xander wished this were a phone conversation because texting took time. And time didn’t feel like it was on their side here.

Hiro:Sending you a map. Get to this door. Security will meet you and take you to an empty field. Good luck.

Did Xander want to pick up the case? That would be a resounding “Hell no.” If he were Orest Kalinsky, he would have smeared the handle with neurotoxins—not that Xander knew how that all worked.

Xander pulled a poop bag from Radar’s vest and slid his hand in like a glove, then reached for the case.

With Radar at his side, his lead draped over Xander’s shoulder to give himself use of both hands, they moved into the swarm of humanity coursing toward their destinations.

Xander followed the red line on his GPS. It took him the long way, but it kept them off the main arteries.

Xander’s deodorant was failing him. His hair prickled as it stood on end.

Was he carrying death?

What the hell was in this bag?

Radar was picking up on Xander’s anxiety. His ears back, his eyes wide, with quick flicks of his tongue, he lowered his stance and trotted next to Xander, maintaining zero space between the two. What happened to Xander would happen to Radar.

When he reached the stairs, Xander tore toward the door, taking two steps at a time. He slammed his hip into the bar release and barreled out into a blast of frigid air.

A man stood with his walkie-talkie crackling, as he scanned the sky with binoculars.

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