Page 45 of Jump or Fall
He ripped off another piece of bread and spread butter on it with a fork.
How long was he going to avoid a fucking butter knife?
Shaking his head, he searched for anything else to eat. He wasn’t sure how long this whole thing would take, so he might as well get the calories in.
By 10:00, he couldn’t put up with sitting around any longer.
He loaded his pockets with a few supplies and set his tablet to track before stepping outside into the overcast morning.
The drop was near the enforcer station, which was bizarre. He ambled through the pathways, scanning for anything unusual. People bustled in every direction, oblivious to him.
There was something oddly comforting about blending in. He remembered a few times seeing scarred faces in other Divisions. They might as well have worn a sign around their neck that said “Fuck the Archon”.
It never took long for them to get hauled away.
Nothing stood out as he walked. It was difficult to keep eyes on the drop spot with the winding paths and to avoid pickpockets.
At 11:15, a surge of people flooded the walkway, pushing him back. He lost sight of the spot and fought through the crowd to get back to where he was.
A grizzled man with one eye, dressed in a business suit, shoved him aside with a hard elbow and he nearly collided with a pipe.
By the time Gordon reached the other side of the crowd, the small box was in place, nestled between a bush and a trash bin.
Son of a bitch.
Had he just brushed shoulders with the guy responsible?
From the edge of the open space, he tried to observe inconspicuously. His bug detector would be useless here. There were too many people and too many signals.
His eyes landed on the lone tree, its branches stretching across the square. Birds squawked from within the foliage. Every few seconds, one swooped down, testing objects on the ground.
Nearby, an elderly woman sat on a bench and retrieved a bag of seeds from her purse. The birds swarmed her, some perching on the bench, others flapping impatiently on the ground.
As she tossed the seeds, they pecked and hopped frantically. A sharp laugh from across the courtyard drew Gordon’s attention—and that’s when he saw it.
One bird remained motionless in the tree, its attention fixed on the box.
He slipped a hand into his pocket, fingers curling around his EMP device. He aimed it subtly toward the tree and clicked.
The bird dropped and landed with an inaudible thud. The commotion of the birds feeding a few feet away kept the attention off the one that had appeared to drop dead.
Gordon hurried over and scooped the bird up, tucking it under his arm.
He found a quieter spot to examine it. Taking it to his apartment would be a mistake since it probably had a tracker.
Up close, the lifeless eyes were unmistakably fake. The bluish-black feathers were soft, but tiny bumps dotted the surface. Without seeing the eyes, the only thing that would give it away was the lack of body heat.
He had to act fast. The EMP wasn’t powerful enough to fry the electronics in it and he didn’t want to be face-to-face with a spy bird.
Gordon tucked it back under his arm, making sure its head was facing down and the wings pinned against its body. He hurried through a few winding pathways and up a set of stairs before stopping at a toy shop.
A little girl with black hair tied in a tight knot on the back of her head was pulling a toy dog from a box.
“Lil, why’d you take it out of the box already?” her mother chastised. “I told you to wait so we don’t have to carry it.”
Gordon approached, concealing the bird. “I can take that off your hands.”
The woman eyed him warily. “Um, okay.”
