Chapter 9

“I’m not here for leopards,” he said to the counterspace and cupboards. “I made a stop, that’s all. I thought leopards didn’t like the cold.”

“Snow leopards, asshole. You know that,” said the man, then paused. The wall pad was giving him information from Leander’s transceiver now, and his eyebrows pulled down as he read it.

Leander was glad he didn’t have his full manifesto on there, just destinations and coordinates, security and safe schematics, personal codes for hideaways. Too much information for anyone to have anyway, but not customers or cargo.

“I’m just a smuggler,” he said again.

He didn’t receive a reply.

* * * *