Look over your shoulder, Matt. Take nothing for granted. Always assume you are being watched, that someone is noting your every move and listening to every word.
As he drove, Cyberia’s paranoia began to get to him.
When he turned into the abandoned parking garage, he brushed that warning to the side. The arm of the ticket dispenser at the entrance to the parking deck was out of order and hung down at a right angle, like a broken arm. He maneuvered the car past the barrier, his headlights sweeping an abandoned vehicle on the first floor that looked like it had taken up permanent residence.
He drove to the access ramp leading to the next level, and continued up. Derelict vehicles were parked haphazardly on the second floor.
In for a penny, he remembered thinking, and continued to the third level, following Tanner’s directions.
All his doubts about the meeting floated to the surface. Then his heartbeat and shallow breathing combined to sound like the beat of an edgy soundtrack of discordant modern jazz. He wondered suddenly what he had available in the way of protection. Only the pen in his pocket. It seemed scant comfort.
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