Olvera Bazaar. A copious collection of shops, big and small, packed into a massive warehouse. Tents and tarps mashed together. The poorest area of New London, where day-workers’ families tried to make extra money by selling crafts and knick-knacks. Hector and Alexandra rushed into the crowded, maze-like marketplace. Wraith trailed, careful to keep watch for the trailing XLS agents. The trio of escapees had ditched their shuttle in the parking garage adjoining the market. The XLS was on their heels. Hector ducked into a tent and engaged his datapad’s communicator. Alexandra and Wraith stood by and monitored the entrance to the bazaar—no sign of their XLS pursuers. Yet.
“You buy something, yes?”
The shop’s owner shoved a string of trinkets in Hector’s face. Wraith stepped in front of the woman and flashed his pistol. The shop owner’s mouth dropped open and she started praying as she backed away. Hector waited for his to call to go through.
“This is Jack.”
“Jack, it’s me.”
“Hector! Where are you? What–”
“I don’t have much time. I need you to sync the MTD to a pair of teleportation drives. Alexa–” Hector started, then paused as if not sure what to call her, “Alexandra and I are coming in.”
“Good. Things aren’t going well, the XLS–”
“Alexandra has information. Critical information. She knows the location of their MTD,” Hector paused. “One more thing. We want immunity. Both of us. We get immunity, the Subdivision gets the info.”
Silence. Finally, Jack said, “I don’t know–”
“Those are the terms. It’s the only way to stop them. You’re too far behind. I need your help. You need mine.”
XLS agents entered the bazaar and fanned out into the marketplace. Hector sunk back against the row of hand-made rugs lining the wall. Wraith and Alexandra stepped into the shadows and readied their weapons.
“Send me the codes. I’ll sync your drives to the MTD,” said Jack. “I can’t promise you anything, though. It’s a mess here, Hector. Falko just took command. I don’t know if he’ll be willing to–”
“Make it happen, Jack.”
Hector terminated the call. Alexandra approached. “Well?”
“No guarantees. He’s syncing the drives.”
The XLS agents began questioning the local shop owners and their patrons—holding up digital pictures of the fugitives. The first few people they approached shook their heads. The fourth took a closer look at the pictures, and then nodded and pointed in their direction. Wraith pulled his sidearm.
“Here we go…” he hissed.
