“He turned around. He was in the stockroom of a sporting goods store, under bright fluorescent lights, surrounded by shelves stacked with basketballs and baseball cleats. A collection of Post-it notes and printouts from his phone’s camera was spread on a desk nearby. His arms were covered with writing. The footsteps drew nearer. He looked toward an open door that led to the basement. A man appeared at the top of the stairs, dreadlocks swinging from his ponytail, his dark face deceptively serene.... He was carrying a rifle with a night scope and three boxes of ammunition. A wave of hope and relief rolled across Kanan. “Diaz. Damn, it’s good to see you.” A look crossed Diaz’s face like he’d just stepped on a sharp rock. “Here you go, boss.” He set the rifle on the desk. “We’ve got this, plus the HK, the sidearm I’ll be carrying, and a Kbar in an ankle sheath.” Diaz didn’t want to look at him. He seemed to be nursing a hurt. “Have I been here long?” Kanan said. “Long enough to say hello fifteen times.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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