Page 91 of Ravens
Dealing with the people we’ve been dealing with since arriving in South America, things have gone rather smoothly. I kept my word, learning enough demolitions to do this job but knowing there is so much more to learn. I have to make up for killing Carter, though. I do regret that now. I liked Carter . . . He was a counterweight in the group and a nice person, I think, despite killing August easily. I’ll probably always regret it.
I jog around the corner, slow to a walk, and then cut across the nearby plaza. The bag I hid is waiting where I left it, and I grab it as I walk past the overgrown bushes and duck into an alley and disappear behind the buildings.
Quickly, I stop and open the bag, slipping on the short white skirt over my shorts and the black shirt over the sports bra, tucking it in as I toe off my runners and socks, swapping them for the heels in the bag. Once swapped, I pull a book and my purse from the bag and head down to the next narrow alley, tossing the bag into a dumpster as I come back out to the street.
“Strut faster. You’re running late,” William chirps in my ear, and I hold up my hand to an oncoming car as I cross the road. Walking up the other side of the street, I see the café ahead. “Will you be all right?”
“I think I can handle sitting pretty for a little while.”
“Yes, if things go to plan,” York says, sounding winded again. What is he doing?
Shaking off the curiosity as I arrive at the café, I locate my mark and take the table next to him, ordering a latte and pulling out a book.
The accountant has coffee here every morning, and sometimes he uses it to conduct meetings. This morning, however, we are expecting him to be solo. Conveniently, I’ve also been coming here in the mornings this week, so I’m becoming a familiar sight. It’s just a distraction, though; I’m babysitting.
The server drops off my coffee, and I thank him before taking a sip. My eyes rise, finding the accountant, and our gaze pauses on one another. I give a coy smile before setting down my coffee and picking up the book again.
York is currently at the accountant’s office, hacking into the account we’re after. If only it were as simple as emptying it into our own coffers, but no, the client wants a shitstorm to incite a regime change. What better way to do that than by framing one crime lord for the theft of the other’s money?
Personally, I think a bank hack is a bit lackluster . . . but it will be effective. Once they trace the fund transfer back to the accountant here, who works for the rival crime lord, headswill begin rolling. Street crime will escalate, the government will scramble to deal with it, and the opposition will scream incompetence or no-confidence . . . and so on.
Luckily, I left my conscience in the dust when I became a Raven.
“I’ve got incoming, and I need more time,” York says quickly.
“Balloon popping,” William says, and a moment later, there is a loud blast as the car bomb I set goes off. The café patrons gasp and look around, and I clutch my chest in surprise and look around too, reinforcing my shock. Smoke appears above the line of buildings across the street.
“Good. I’ll be clear in two,” York says.
The accountant gets to his feet, peering across the street as he reaches into his pocket and withdraws a phone. I didn’t put the bomb too close to his offices, although it is close enough to be a concern, close enough to distract anyone heading into the office to stop and walk down the road a bit to see the commotion. Still, I can’t have him making any calls.
“I wonder what that was,” I say innocently.
Looking down at me, the accountant smiles reassuringly. “Car accident, likely.”
“Yeah.” I shake my head gently with a smile. “Sorry, I’m not used to things like that . . . I’ve heard it can sometimes be . . . dangerous here.”
Dropping the phone back into his pocket, he retakes his seat. “Sometimes, yes. Did you just move here?”
“No, work trip.”
“What do you do?”
“Finance, venture capitalist-type stuff.”
“Really?” He leans back in his chair. “Looking for investors?”
“Maybe.” I pick up my coffee. “The project is hush-hush—Patents are still pending.”
“Ah.” He smiles slightly.
“York is clear. Vault is to move to position two. Bottlecap is falling back to position three,” William directs us.
“Well, things to do.” I slide my chair back and grab the book. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’d like that.” The accountant nods and watches as I walk off the patio and head down the street.
I’ll likely never see him again. Chances are he’ll be dead in a few days once the theft gets traced back to him. Today, I just needed to ensure he didn’t head to his offices before York could complete the hack. It’s nice when things go smoothly.
