Chapter Forty-Four - Stake Out

Sharp and I walked back and forth across the front of the warehouse twice.

Twice was as far as I would allow. There was an old adage about once being an event and twice a coincidence, and generally speaking that was true. People noticed if something happened twice, but it took three times for them to start suspecting a pattern.

If you offed someone that was part of an organization and you were talented enough to make it seem like an accident or illness, then the others that were around them would weep and cry and get on with their lives. The second death under similarly strange circumstances? Well, bad luck happened and people died. The third, and suddenly security would be increased, people would be taking shelter, and caution would be at an all-time high.

The same rule of three applied to staking a place out.

Anyone could walk past any building for any reason. It wasn't strange. People had to get places, and sometimes they had to get back from the place using the same route.

Walking by a third time, however... "It raises suspicions," I explained. "And even if you have a perfectly valid alibi, you never want to get to the point where that alibi has to be tested."

"Why not?" Sharp asked.

"Because, no matter how good your alibi, the moment someone starts looking for something wrong, they'll find it. It's why, when you start learning how to drive, you will never drive in an erratic fashion, with a vehicle that's not obviously road-secure, and in a fashion that draws attention."

Sharp hummed, then she took a sip from her hot chocolate. We were stationed at a fast food place two blocks down from the warehouse we'd been staking out. Sharp needed a small break to eat, and so did I. I was still chewing on a bit of croissant that she'd cut off for me. We were sitting outside. It was a little chilly, but not that bad, and the porch was empty at this time of day.

"So, I can't look again?" she asked.

"Not today," I confirmed. "Not without risking raising suspicions. So, you're going to have to operate with what you know."

"I don't think I know much," Sharp said.

I hummed. I'd started her on observation training a while ago, but we hadn't kept it up too much. Still... "Tell me what you do know. We walked past twice, the second time quite slowly. I saw you scan the place, you must have noticed something."

Sharp nodded. "Right! Okay, so I saw three guys at the front, and two more on the side, sitting by a car."

"What kind of guys, armaments, gang tags? The car, what sort was it?"

Sharp swallowed, but then she narrowed her eyes and thought about it. "The guys didn't all have gang stuff, I don't think. Most of them were in jeans and hoodies and sweatpants. Casual clothes, I guess. One of them had a tanktop even if it's chilly out, and he had tattoos on his arms. Uh, they looked like scales?"

"Good, go on."

"I saw a few handguns. Usually in the, uh, bands of their pants. Nothing bigger than that, I don't think... wait, no, there was a shotgun up against a wall."

"Well noted. And their disposition?"

"Their what?" she asked.

"Did they seem stressed, on guard?"

"Oh no. I guess not? They looked a little bored? I think they were all on their phones. The ones in the car, at least. The three out front were either on their phones or just chatting? I think there were lots of cans around them on the ground. The garbage bin near them looked full."

I nodded. "The car?"

"Uh, a hatchback... I think that's what they're called? It looks old. Like, its been broken and fixed a few times? Some of the parts aren't the same colour."

"Good work. Now, putting all of that together, what kind of conclusion can you reach?"

Sharp leaned back and thought about it for a few long seconds. "I guess that they've been there for a while. They're not there for fun, it's probably boring. So it's a job of some sort. I don't know if they're part of a gang or not, but it feels like they might be, but if they are, they're probably not important."

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I felt a little proud at that moment. She'd reached some good, logical conclusions there. "Well done," I said. "Now, a few things you missed that are worth mentioning. There's a build up of cigarette butts in the area. That's always a good sign that people are loitering. There are also several boxes and things moved around to make for seating. People naturally want to sit when waiting around for a long time. The car is modded, but it is older, you're right there. The guns are mostly low-calibre things. Probably printed. The shotgun is older, however, a break-action. It's not the kind of equipment you'd see on professionals. You also missed that one of them had an alligator on the back of his coat."

"An alligator?" Sharp asked.

"Or a crocodile? I'm genuinely not sure what the difference is."

"Oh! The other had scale tattoos!" she said. "So they are in a gang?"

"Possibly. Look it up."

"On my phone?" Sharp asked.

"No, in the phone book," I said with a flat voice. Sharp just gave me a confused look, and I realzied that she might not know what a phone book even was. "Just look it up. Try the name of this town and describe the symbol. There are usually forums and such where people warn about small gangs."

"Right, okay," Sharp said as she pulled out her phone and got to doing just that. I moved up next to her so that I could see her navigate the web. It was painful. She was a peck-typer and I groaned as she clicked on several sponsored ads instead of clicking on actual posts. She had no idea how the real net worked and it showed. She wasn't entire tech-illiterate, just... inexperienced.

Eventually, however, she found a social media page dedicated to the northern end of Boston Two, and there were several posts complaining about youngsters in crocodile clothes causing trouble.

They reportedly broke a few knees, got into some fights with some of the larger gangs in the region--and got their asses handed to them--and sold some lighter drugs off of street corners until someone noticed them and they'd run off.

"Looks like they're a smaller gang?" Sharp asked. "Maybe this is a front though? Like, a big gang setting up a little one to start taking turf and then it'll undermine whichever gang is actually in this area?"

"Or we follow Occam's Razor, and this is just a bunch of jumped-up street kids that made a little gang for themselves. If they're selling drugs then they need to store them."

"You think that's what's in the warehouse?" Sharp asked.

"It's more likely than babies or whatever it was you jumped to," I said. "And if that's the case, then it'll make things pretty easy. We just need to torch the building without being noticed."

"Uh-huh," Sharp said. "So, uh, how do we do that?"

"Did you notice any cameras?" I asked.

Sharp blinked. "Now that you mention it, no?"

I sniffed. "There were some. But we can handle those. First... we need a few tools, and you need to get changed." I glanced down at her phone again. It was approaching mid-afternoon. This time of year... we probably had another two or three hours of good sunlight. "Let's get going. We'll buy what we need, then you get to participate in one of the time-honoured traditions of the Edgerunner sort."

Sharp perked up a little at that. "What tradition?" she asked.

I grinned as only a cat can. "Waiting around while nothing happens," I said.

She pouted, but we did get up and got moving. First to a hardware store, where we bought a few essentials while trying not to look suspicious, then back to where Sharp had stored her clothes. I had her prep for the rest of the mission right there, because what we were making for this next part was a little... messy.

It was the first time I had Sharp make something for a mission, and I figured that if anything, it might maybe help her level up a skill or two, especially once things went off in a satisfactory way.

"Ah... we forgot to buy lighters," I muttered.

There was always something.

***