All Art had to do was call the shot. He didn’t see any of his team in the hardware store but knew they’d been there. The tools he needed to fix the propane line had been supplemented by them, stashed in a spot high on a shelf. It would’ve taken an employee a year to find the secret gear in the crowded aisles of the hot, cramped shop. And even if they did, it would’ve just looked like oily thin cardboard used for packing machine parts. Art knew what it could do, though, and carefully tucked the sheets in the paper bag with the rest of his supplies. He chatted in Spanish for a bit with the older man behind the counter, thanking him for the hardware, commiserating about the heat and taking in other details about the town. Back in the square, Art stalked through the market. Hayley wasn’t hard to spot under the makeshift umbrellas and awnings. She could not be rushed and stopped at each table to pick up the food, test it and think about it.
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