Ajax Penumbra 1969 (Kindle Single) by Robin Sloan Read Free Book Online Page A

his spine. This is what it means to be a Junior Acquisitions Officer.
    “Here,” Corvina says. “Just as we discussed.”
    “Let me just give that a look-see.” There’s a rip, a riffle. The counting of cash. “Very generous. Okay, Mark, I got good news and I got bad news.”
    “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
    “The good news is, your spot’s all clear. We dug through there ages ago. Market and Beale, right? Yeah, I went back and checked it out myself. There’s something there. Doesn’t look too great, but considering the circumstances, it doesn’t look too terrible either.”
    “And the bad news?”
    “The bad news, Mark … is I don’t manage the Embarcadero worksite. That’s a whole different outfit, and it’s locked up tight.”
    Penumbra can almost hear Corvina’s nostrils flare. His own heart sinks. They are so close, and yet, once again, the path is blocked. This is what it means to be a Junior Acquisitions Officer.
    Corvina presses ahead. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have a solution,” he says. “Am I right?”
    “You’re very perceptive, Mark. I’ve got you covered. We finished the tube—did you know that?”
    “The tube under the bay?”
    The visitor makes a satisfied
mm-hmm
. “Sealed it up tight. No track yet, but we’re driving trucks through every day. And the worksite on the
other
side of the tube—that one’s mine. I can square things away with the night watchman, no problem.”
    “The worksite … on the other side.”
    “Yeah. West Oakland.”
    Corvina chuckles. “You’re suggesting we go the long way.”
    Frankie laughs, too. “Why not? Get a little exercise, right?”
    “Is it safe?”
    “Sure. The muckety-mucks are organizing a big walk next month—open to the public. Little kids, old folks, everybody. Right through the tube. The way I see it, you’re just getting early access.”
    “Well, I’m glad you see it that way. I assume that this donation ensures your … discretion.”
    “Of course, Mark, of course.” Frankie clomps toward the door, then pauses. Penumbra hears him turn. “What’s in there, anyway? Gold doubloons?”
    “Would you care?”
    “I don’t know…. I might want a cut.”
    “I hate to disappoint you, Franklin, but it’s just books.”
    “Well, this seems like a lot to pay for some old books, but I can see you have, ah, quite a collection here. To each his own, I always say. You all set?”
    “West Oakland. Through the tube. What do I say to the night watchman?”
    “His name’s Hector. He’ll keep an eye out for you. We can use a password—”
    “Festina lente.”
    “Say again now?”
    “
Festina lente
. That will be our password.” It is possible, Penumbra realizes, that this is not Corvina’s first time organizing an illicit expedition.
    “Fes-teen-uh lenty. Okay. If you say so.” Frankie clomps toward the door again, and this time he pulls it open. The bell tinkles brightly. “Go anytime after midnight. Fes-teen-uh lenty. Okay. Good luck down there, Mark.”

The Wreck of the
William Gray
    They cross the bay on the last ferry of the night under a half moon flickering spookily through low clouds. The boat passes smoothly beneath the dark bulk of the Bay Bridge, sterner and more serious-looking than its tourist-friendly cousin.
    The ferry lands near the Port of Oakland, among the warehouses. They have bicycles, purchased from a man who called himself Russian Mike on the corner of Turk and Leavenworth. Corvina claims the sleek green Schwinn; Penumbra gets the blue beach cruiser with a banana seat. They pedal to the West Oakland worksite, which is not difficult to identify: there are smooth concrete pillars rising to support nothing; hills of rust-red rebar waiting to be woven into stone; multiple slumbering backhoes.
    They spot Hector shuffling lazily around the chain-link perimeter, wearing an approximation of a police uniform. They signal from a distance; approach cautiously; say
festina lente
in