Page 78 of Oath
She could do this and we would make sure she was fine.
“Right…” Voodoo glanced at me. “Let’s get moving…”
VOODOO
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER…
LOCATION: ARCADIA MUSEUM OF CULTURAL HISTORY
I’d seen a lot of fronts in my time—strip malls that covered bunkers, churches that funneled weapons, even a suburban daycare that ran a listening post out of the nursery. But this? A high-tech, freshly minted museum in the middle of the city… this was almost elegant.
From the outside, the Arcadia Museum of Cultural History looked clean, expensive, and justoffenough to draw attention but not scrutiny. New concrete, shining glass, and some overly abstract modern sculpture of a phoenix in the courtyard. Not subtle. Not trying to be. That’s the trick with these kinds of operations—don’thide. Just fit in loud enough that no one wants to look closer.
I’d parked a block away, took a slow circuit on foot, no gear that would get flagged by their facial rec. Black jeans, battered jacket, camera hanging off my neck like any other out-of-townersoaking in the sights before the museum closed for a private event. Baseball cap and sunglasses helped sell the tourist angle.
Private events happened every third night, apparently. According to the schedule, that frequency wasn’t listed online. But the frequency showed up in their power usage logs. Dumb move.
People lied. Data didn’t.
There were four main entrances: public, staff, deliveries, and fire exits. Two side alleys. One underground tunnel thatwasn’ton city records but definitely existed—thermal scan had picked it up when we did the drive-by recon. That one would need more investigation. Probably part of the emergency egress or a VIP escape route. Whatever it was, they cared enough to keep it quiet.
The loading docks though? Perfect. Isolated. Cameras easy to loop—primitive system there, not even cloud synced. Big mistake. Alphabet had been incensed by the setup. It was almost funny. Still, the wobbly security might just be a cover. Distract by appearing unimpressive. It was a choice.
Trucks came in twice a week for exhibit rotation, and if we believed that I would be investing in a bridge that was already located in Arizona. The delivery manifests and weight scans didn’t match—not even close. They had been moving cargo in and out that didn’t get logged.
My kind of backdoor.
I took a stroll past the public lobby, made note of the security guards. Overdressed, undertrained. They scanned people’s tickets like TSA LARPing agents and didn’t notice half the tells they should’ve. One of them kept scratching his wrist where a wrist tattoo was clearly trying to peek out from beneath his uniform. Real pros they had here.
The museumlookednew, but too much of it was smoke and mirrors. Corners of the façade still smelled like freshly curedresin. But other sections—like the west wing—felt older, hidden beneath cosmetic upgrades. Reinforced walls. Vibration sensors tucked under the molding near the display cases. High-end tech, but only in select zones.
This place was built tolooklike a museum. And maybe some of itwas—but the rest? Storage. Staging. Something deeper.
Every piece of information confirmed our supposition. This was most likely where they were holding Bones.
I finished my loop, ended up back near the side alley that fed toward the loading dock. Looked like a blind corner—no camera angle covered it fully. That was intentional. Could make for a clean extraction route if we had to go loud. Not preferred, but good to know.
It was well past sundown by the time I finished my last circuit of the area and headed back to the parked van. My gear bag was still where I left it, tucked in the hidden compartment beneath the false floor. Slid it out, ran a quick check—drones, thermal imager, EMP disruptor, snake cam. Good. Grabbed the burner phone and sent the signal to Alphabet.
“Ingredients acquired along with the recipe. Heading back now.”
I took one last look back at the museum, then slipped into the driver’s seat. The engine purred low as I pulled away, merging into the flow of evening traffic.
Bones was in there. I could feel it. And if I was right about the setup, getting in would be easier than getting out.
And we were sending Gracie in, but if everything went according to plan—we would take all the fire while she got out.
LUNCHBOX
FIVE HOURS EARLIER…
LOCATION: UNDISCLOSED LOCATION NOT FAR FROM THE VENUE
She stepped out of the guest room and it hit me like a goddamn bomb going off.
Grace was already huge in spirit—fierce, fast with her mouth, quicker with her mind—but the heels made her 5’2” frame feel like 6’2”, and the dress? That strapless blue number looked like it had been airbrushed on. Seamless, molded to her like a second skin. She looked dangerous, the kind of dangerous that didn’t need a weapon. The kind of dangerous men underestimated, but never made the same mistake twice.
I didn’t say anything right away. Just stared. Blinking like a jackass.
