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I don’t spot Johan, but what I do see is a young woman stumbling hopelessly toward me with confusion and hesitation on her face.
“Do you know where I could find The Drop?” she asks, hardly able to speak as she struggles to catch her breath.
The Drop?Did Johan send someone else to meet with me?
I didn’t know he wanted to jump straight into an exchange, but I suppose this means he’s confident enough in my business to work with me. I’ll take it as a compliment, though I’m confused by his methods.
“What do you mean?” I ask, scanning her body language as I search for something that could confidently imply that she’s an alternate for Johan.
Why else would she be approaching me?
“My phone was stolen. I might be able to get it back if I can find The Drop on time, but I really need to hurry,” she replies, rubbing her arms nervously.
She’s refusing to make eye contact with me, and she appears consumed by anxiety. Both of these physical cues could indicate that she’s here to see me, but she’s never done this before.
It’s another odd choice by someone as careful as Johan, but perhaps there’s a method to his madness. Nobody would assume that a girl like this is involved in a business as brutal as ours. She’s far too attractive, her big eyes like jewels against the darkening sky. She’s the type of girl you see once and fall in love with, but I’m too deep in the mafia to ever consider such a thing.
Love is an emotion reserved for family. Women are pleasant distractions and nothing more.
But this woman seems to be more than a distraction, and I have no choice to trust that she’s with Johan.
“Alright, let’s go to The Drop,” I say, checking my phone one last time for a sign that she’s my contact.
Nothing.
The fact that she allegedly lost her phone would be a good cover for the lack of correspondence, but why would The Drop be the place where she retrieves it? The whole thing is peculiar, but it’s not like I didn’t get a weird feeling from the beginning.
This mission reeks of complications, but I’m too deep into it to give up without a fight.
As we make our way through the fairgrounds, the nervous girl grows less confident of her intended destination. We pass the same three rides at least twice before she starts to become upset, which is another sign that something here is deeply wrong.
“Maybe we should try a different direction. It kind of feels like we’re walking in circles,” I suggest, watching the girl’s reaction closely to see how she accepts my feedback.
“I swear it was just this way. That’s what they told me at least. I’ve never been here before,” she confesses, shoving her hands deep in her pockets.
Her responses are still vague enough that they could be cover phrases, but she’s so susceptible to her anxiety that I’m shocked she’d be sent over Johan himself. Either he’s confident enough in his own work that he doesn’t really need her…
Or I’m following a complete stranger.
“What are we doing, exactly? What is involved in The Drop?” I ask, wondering if a touch of confrontation might cause her to crack.
She glances over her shoulder at me, tempted to roll her eyes at my ignorance. “What’s involved? It’s a ride where you’re strapped into a seat, raised up like two hundred feet, and then dropped. It’s pretty self-explanatory.”
Oh, fuck.
This isn’t at all what I thought it was.
“Wait, so you don’t know Johan?” I ask, refusing to use coded language now.
“Johan who? Does he go to school here?”
School? This girl is a student?
I fear I’ve made a horrible mistake.
“I get it, you want to keep speaking in code, right?” I ask, looking for a clue that I’m not following around some random girl at the fair. She’s pretty, but ultimately not what I’m here for.
“Code?” she asks, looking back at me again. “I just want to find The Drop. I figured you might be able to help me.”
