38: Brice
Brice
Brice followed the man for three hours. He strutted along streets as if he had nothing to fear. He greeted some of those he passed, ignored the majority. A few gave him wary glances.
He stopped often, disappearing into buildings. A couple were private dwellings, but most were businesses—eateries, bars, clubs. One place was a loan company, another a pawn shop. Not everyone who met him in these places was pleased to see him. They still shook hands, though, and welcomed him in.
They weren’t social visits, but business. And as the man didn’t have a pack, he either dealt in information or passed on messages. Which made sense—systems could be hacked, so there was more control over face-to-face communication.
Brice thought of him as The Messenger. He noted the visit locat
