n2020  Check-in [a08d2a06ff]

She had no ideas about anyone else she could get to be backup for her next transaction, so that got sent to the back burner as well.  /* maybe, instead, say: put off for later */

Alley dug through boxes in her closet and found her old lightweight pair of motorcycle gloves with reinforcements on their backs, then cheked to make sure she could still operate her baton and pepper spray.

The prioritizer told her "It is getting close to time for you to leave for your next meeting."

She checked the time and realized she was hungry.  She grabbed everything she needed, and grabbed a hat to help obscure her appearance a bit for surveillance cameras.  She bought fries and a shake at a drive through on the way, and when she finished the fries she donned her gloves at a stoplight, remembering Carmen once more and how the redhead wore gloves during the entire meeting.





















































/*

At some point, she should set up a meeting for an exchange in a private conference room at a co-working space.  Someone should recognize her and ask whether she's meeting a client, to which she replies vaguely in a positively interpretable fashion without literally confirming that assumption with her words.

I wanted the person who greets her to say something that raises some factoid of her life, but I'm not sure any longer what I had in mind.  Did it have anything to do with getting out of Dalton's shadow?

She had no ideas about anyone else she could get to be backup for her next transaction, so that got sent to the back burner as well.  /* maybe, instead, say: put off for later */

Alley dug through boxes in her closet and found her old lightweight pair of motorcycle gloves with reinforcements on their backs, then cheked to make sure she could still operate her baton and pepper spray.

The prioritizer told her "It is getting close to time for you to leave for your next meeting."

She checked the time and realized she was hungry.  She grabbed everything she needed, and grabbed a hat to help obscure her appearance a bit for surveillance cameras.  She bought fries and a shake at a drive through on the way, and when she finished the fries she donned her gloves at a stoplight, remembering Carmen once more and how the redhead wore gloves during the entire meeting.  ---

Once she got to the correct neighborhood for the meeting, Alley drove around the block once, then decided she should just park in the supermarket parking lot, off to the side near the alley behind the store.  Soon, she stood near the back corner of the building, masked, gloved, and hatted.  Her glasses informed her she was seven minutes early for the meeting.

She patted the reassuring bulges of the pepper spray, now in her left front pocket instead of the right, and the extending baton, in her right rear pocket.  She slung the /* drawstring */ bag of handgun frames over her shoulder by the drastring and headed back around the corner.

Alley immediately saw a broad shouldered figure standing with an umbrella over his head, just past a steel faced employee fire escape door.  The umbrella he held in his right hand shaded most of him from the sunlight above, but as she approached the figure's features became clearer.

He was a well muscled black man, in his fifties or sixties from the look of it.  He wore neither mask nor glasses.  Around what looked like a permanent dour turn of his mouth she saw greying and close cut, but not exactly groomed, mustache and beard.    On his head she noted a black beret with some kind of unit patch on the front.  The whole beret, including the patch, looked scrupulously clean, though it appeared positively ancient.  It was worn threadbare in places, and seemed to have lost the stiffness necessary to maintain its previous sharp military shape.

The man waited and watched impassively as she approached, and she felt increasingly nervous as she got closer.  The impression of the man's solidity increased with closer proximity.  She stopped about ten feet away.  After a moment, she said "Hi."

He nodded, and looked her over.  He pulled a thick envelope out of his old black leather jacket with his left hand and held it up.  It was a crisp, stark white, large letter envelope bloated by its contents.  She assumed it was cash.

Alley unslung the drawstring bag from her shoulder.

In a voice like an angry Barry White, he asked "You wanna come to me, or should I go to you?"  She imagined she could almost feel its vibrations in her chest.

"I'll come to you."

He watched, and she stepped forward.  He held out the envelope.  She took it with one hand, then offered the bag with the other.  He shook his head.  "Just leave it on the ground, then you can step back and count what's in the envelope."

As Alley did as he suggested, she saw him crouch by the bag.  With one hand, even gloved, he deftly loosened the drawstring.  He kept his eyes on her as he did it, not even looking at what his left hand was doing, while the right still tirelessly held the umbrella over his head.  Once he had the bag opened up, he glanced down to see the contents, then quickly jerked the drawstring to cinch it closed.

The man slowly stood and waited as she finished counting.

After she closed the envelope once more, he said "I guess I'm trusting these aren't going to turn out to be crap quality, just like you're trusting those bills aren't counterfeit."

Alley hesitated, and nodded.

"If there's a problem, I'll try contacting you the same way we set this up.  Yeah?"

"Yeah," she echoed.

"If I can't find you that way, I'll track you down so we can talk."

After a few seconds, she remembered to breathe.  "No, you'll be able to get in touch the same way we set this up.  That'll be fine."

"Good.  You can find me the same way if you need to settle a problem with what I gave you."

She nodded.

"Good doing business with you," he said.  "You can go first, if you want."

"Sure," she said.  "Have a good day."

He nodded.

She backed away a couple steps, then turned and continued until she got to the corner.  She glanced back twice along the way, then once more just before going around the corner of the building.

In her car once more, she started it up and drove aimlessly around for half an hour until her hands stopped shaking and her clenched jaw relaxed, then headed home.

"What the fuck am I actually doing?" she asked herself.

/*

At some point, she should set up a meeting for an exchange in a private conference room at a co-working space.  Someone should recognize her and ask whether she's meeting a client, to which she replies vaguely in a positively interpretable fashion without literally confirming that assumption with her words.

I wanted the person who greets her to say something that raises some factoid of her life, but I'm not sure any longer what I had in mind.  Did it have anything to do with getting out of Dalton's shadow?