Free Numbers Game by Rebecca Rode Page A

plans,” I said. “Let’s stop at the Red District. I think it’s a good time to get Treena’s initiation out of the way.”
    “Yes, sir,” Daymond said with a grin.
    It gave me great satisfaction to see Treena swallow hard.

 
    10

     
    I ’d been here before.
    At least that’s what it felt like. The Red District in Aiguille was similar to the one in Olympus: very few bikes and hordes of people shuffling around, their eyes darting sharply, missing nothing. Dozens of children dodged through the crowds, laughing and playing, their uniforms dirty and unfitted. I wrinkled my nose. The roads were black with filth, the buildings shorter and dusted with various shades of grime. The street cleaners obviously didn’t come here either.
    The citizens’ faces showed a practiced boredom, but they clung to their kids with the ferocity of a mother bear. The EPIC team lined up on the curb, still sweaty and panting from their run, and suddenly there was a stillness to the crowded square, as if we’d dampened the sound. Nearly all motion stopped. A few people actually turned around and headed quickly in the opposite direction.
    “If you were trying to sneak in,” I said, “you failed miserably.”
    Vance glanced meaningfully at his guys. Two of them broke off and trotted after the people who had left. Then he turned to me. “You ready, Treena?”
    I nodded, even though I wasn’t. Without a thought, I patted the hair covering my Rating.
    “Today you’re a beggar,” Vance said with a chuckle, and he smoothed my hair out of my face. His fingers were calloused but gentle, and it sent a tingle down my spine. “If there was ever a time to show your Rating off, it’s now.”
    “No one will believe she’s a beggar,” Semias said with a frown. “She looks too clean. Her uniform looks fresh out of the package.”
    Vance opened his mouth to argue, but Daymond—the one with the scar—spoke up. “I actually agree with Semias this time. She doesn’t look desperate enough.”
    “I’m happy to dirty her up a little,” Semias said, still staring at me. “We want her to look authentic, after all.”
    I glared back. “Do. Not. Touch me.”
    “Semias,” Vance said quietly. “You and Day sweep the north alley. I’ll contact you when you’re needed.”
    “Yes, sir.” Daymond shot me an apologetic look before striding away. Semias just smirked and shuffled after him.
    I let out an exasperated breath. “You don’t need to protect me.”
    Vance ignored my comment and reached into his pocket, pulling out a set of tiny black devices, then fastened one to his ear. It looked like an earring. “Put this on so we can communicate. I’m staying out of the way, but I’ll be there in seconds if it sounds like you need help. Any questions?”
    A million, actually, but few he could answer. I knelt and rubbed my hand in the dirt, then brushed it onto my uniform. “So, I’m supposed to catch a smuggler? Is that all?”
    “You can catch more than one,” he said with a slight smile, “if you’d like. Semias arrested three at his orientation.”
    That wasn’t exactly what I’d meant, but it seemed simple enough. “Do I get a weapon or anything?”
    “No. You haven’t been trained to use one, and it would be too conspicuous. That’s why I’m listening in. You’ll be fine, though. They won’t hurt you.”
    No weapon, no help. My mission was to identify the traitor, and I couldn’t do that unless the guys trusted me, which meant passing this test. If Semias could do it, I could. I hesitated, then stepped up against a shop corner and leaned against the building. Sure enough, a layer of dirt attached itself to my uniform. I rubbed against the wall on all sides like an itchy cat, then nodded in satisfaction. “All right, I’m ready.”
    “Good luck.”
    It wasn’t long before I stood on the first floor of a high-occupancy apartment building, trying to decide where to start. I chose a random door—plastic, covered in dark