With a heavy
exhalation, Jessup sat down on the concrete bench inside the away team’s
dugout. He stared at the tobacco stained floor. No one spoke. Steele stood with
his enormous bulk blocking the short stairwell leading onto the field. Slowly inching
toward the back of the dugout, Musgrove unconsciously put distance between
himself and Dante who nonchalantly reclined against the chain link with his back
to the field full of Hellions.
“Can’t be done
alone,” Steele spoke deliberately. “Can be done. Needs to be. Needs a
crew…ain’t a one man affair.”
“Who you work
with is your business,” Dante said. “Tell them nothing that might compromise
the job.”
“The pay?”
Jessup asked.
“As many Bits
as you want on your RFIDs,” Dante answered.
“Crazy Man,”
Steele shot, “we’re outside the Bits line. That train don’t stop round here.
Crews don’t work for cred. So, what’s the pay?”
