I was out the door and into the back lot of the diner. Only a few lights, and night had fallen. For a moment, I was blind as my eyes shifted to night-vision. I tripped on a broken spur of concrete, fell and rolled to an unceremonious halt several meters away, cursing.

I jumped to my feet and dug in the satchel to find the bundle I’d gave the men earlier that night. Threw the satchel aside, put the chips in my inner coat pocket and kept moving.

Knockers would be confused for a second, but they weren’t stupid. Time to get out of the neighborhood.

Got it. I gotta lose the heat.

Still trying to get into the knocker comms, but they’re tough. Get clean while I find out where the meet is gonna be.

Squealing tires and the bob of headlights turning into the lot to my right. I sprinted left, climbed a security fence and dove into shadow. I wondered how good a look the knocker sniper had got of me and whether I could circle around to my bike.

Gotta play it safe.

I lost myself in the streets of New Orleans.