Most of the trolley’s passengers disembarked. Sev joined them. He searched for his contact, Michaels, but had no idea what the man looked like or where he might be exactly. Sev wandered about the station, trying to remain inconspicuous as he searched for the man. There was no sign of Michaels, but Sev saw a number of young people filing toward a conspicuously ornate brougham. Each boy and girl carried a duffle similar to Sev’s, so he fell in at the end of the queue. A young boy joined him as he walked. He carried a duffle as well. “Headed to the palace?” Sev asked. “What do you think?” the boy answered. “Have I offended ye somehow?” “I’m Michaels.” The boy ignored Sev’s question. “I expected you to be a little sharper.” “What? How was I—?” Sev sputtered. “Shush,” Michaels answered. Sev did as he was told, more out of surprise than acquiescence. Their credentials were checked and a cursory search made of their persons and belongings before they were allowed to board the brougham.
