Page 114 of Rattle the Cage

Tess rolled her eyes at me. “Are we going in or not?”

Before I could say something else to piss her off, I moved toward the flower shop door. A purple glow leaked onto the street from inside.

“Here?” Tess looked up at the sign overhead. It read Garden Grove in a scrawling font, around it were tropical plants of all kinds.

Nash grabbed the door and held it open as Blade and I stepped inside. “Yeah, Sweet Lamb. Tracer likes plants.”

Inside, I marched through the small shop, my boots clicked against the stone tile floors. All the lights were off except for the grow lights that hung over every house plant in the place. Walls of flora and fauna stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Decorative, ceramic pots lined unvarnished wood shelves.

“Where even are we?” Tess muttered under her breath as she stopped in her tracks and looked around. She paused in front of a glass case of exotic, rare tropicals. Inside, a bright white grow light stayed on and moisture gathered on the cool glass.

Blade moved around the shelves and plants, sneaking up behind Tess and grabbing her shoulders. “Scared after your movie?”

Tess shook her head and tried to look tough. “No. I’m just confused why a cybersecurity expert works at a plant shop.”

Turning to look back at her, I laughed. “Tracer owns this place.”

“Whatever.” Tess scoffed.

All of us jumped when a metal Employees Only door swung open at the back of the shop. A short, masculine woman in a floral Hawaiian shirt chewed on a lollipop as she stared at us. “Yoo-hoo.”

That’s all Tracer said before she disappeared back behind the door.

“Come on, let’s not waste her time.” I started walking toward where our strange friend had vanished.

“Who… That’s her?” Tess gawked, her jaw on the floor.

Tracer had floppy brown hair and a serious face. She meant business and didn’t have much of an interest in small talk. Even after working with her for years, I’d only held a real conversation with her once.

But as we approached the door, I swung it open and headed down the steep basement steps.

The purple light of the grow lamps was replaced with the harsh blue of dozens of computer screens. The sole light in the basement at night, Tracer worked down here pretty much all night.

I still couldn’t figure out when the poor fucker slept.

“What kind of nerd bunker is this?” Tess asked as she followed behind me, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the metal railing.

But at the bottom of the steps, Blade pointed to the Fallout Shelter sign. “It’s literally a bunker.”

From the computer, Tracer mumbled. “Place used to be Valemont’s post office. Red-scare in the 50s made ‘em build bunkers all over the country.”

As we moved into the full basement, Tess’s blue eyes widened. Shelves lined the walls with cans of food, bottled water, and survival tools. Only a few of them had supplies for the shop above. Mounted to the wall next to the computer screens, an array of guns sprawled out. Automatics, hand guns, rifles, even a few sub-machine guns were ready at a moment's notice.

Tracer didn’t look away from her screen as she sucked on her bright red lollipop. “Once the post office got too crowded, they moved over near City Hall and I bought this place.”

Done with small-talk, Tracer pulled up a new tab as I stood behind her. “I’ve got your guy.”

Swiveling a few inches in both directions as she spoke, Tracer opened a folder. An image of a man’s face appeared on the screen. He wore a sleek leather jacket, a tacky snapback, and a clean face.

“That’s him.” I nodded, recognizing him immediately.

Although I preferred the image of him that remained in my mind: terrified, full of bravado, a sheep at the slaughter.

His face looked more… intact here.

Tracer popped the lollipop out of her mouth. “He’s a podcaster, some alpha male shit. But wait ‘til you see who his new best bud is.”

I felt my brow lift, a lead.