My uniform pocket, meanwhile, felt rather heavy. And increasingly hot.
That midnight, while Greentree and those who couldn’t escape continued the search, I rappelled down the outside wall of his apartment building, let myself into his bedroom, and planted the ruddy things in the trouser pocket of the uniform he’d worn the previous day. It seemed a decent enough plan at the time, and my skills weren’t so rusty that I left any fingerprints that would incriminate me. And I must admit to a sensation of sopping-wet-rag relief as well as giddy satisfaction as I let myself out of the building at the end of the operation, carrying my tools camouflaged in a gym bag and crossing the parking lot to my own housing at around one in the morning.
But at the edge of the lot, a soft slow drawl spoke out of the impenetrable shadows at the foot of the boundary wall. “You know, I generally mind my own business.”
from Trophies, Archive Fifteen
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