“Look like you, guy’s not gonna mind a wait.” His friendly face went hard and cold, and sent Melissa’s heart bounding to her throat. “Brother, you wanna take your fingers off this lady’s purse, or I’m gonna break ’em into little pieces.”
Melissa jolted, snatched her purse around to press it to her belly. She glanced back and caught a glimpse of the small man in a dark trench coat as he slithered back into the jammed bodies.
“Oh. Thank you! Sometimes I forget to be careful.”
“Don’t pay to forget. You keep that purse close.”
“Yes, I will. Thank you again. I’m Melissa. Melissa Kotter.”
“Bruno Biggs. They just call me Biggs . . . ’cause I am.”
During the ten-minute delay, she chatted with him. She learned he worked in construction, had a wife named Ritz and a baby boy they called B. J. for Bruno, Junior. By the time they’d reached her stop, she’d given him the name of the restaurant where she worked and had invited him to bring his family in for dinner. As people gushed off the train, she waved and let herself be swept along by the current.
Bruno saw her trying to hurry along, her purse once again trailing behind her.
He shook his head and muscled his way off just before the doors closed.
Melissa broke free of the crowd and raced up the stairs. She was going to be late unless she ran the last three blocks. She made a dash for the corner. Something hit her from behind, low on the back, and sent her pitching forward. The strap of her purse snapped clean. She managed one short scream as she tumbled off the curb. There were shrieking brakes, shouts, then a bright, blinding pain as she hit the street.
She heard something else snap.
“Ms. Kotter? Melissa.” Bruno bent over her. “God almighty, sister, I thought you’d get yourself run over. Got this back for you.” He shook her purse.
“I—I forgot to be careful.”
“Okay now, okay. You need the MTs? How bad you hurt?”
“I don’t know . . . my arm.”
She’d broken the arm. And saved her life.
“Eight hundred and sixty-eight names.” Eve squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Just couldn’t be simple.”
“That doesn’t include building maintenance, or straight clerical.”
“This will do for now. We’ll focus on the ones your source lists as being reprimanded for recreational use, and those he remembers being named in any lawsuits. But we need to work with all of them. I need to separate them out—medical, administration, e-drones, lab techs. Divide them by age groups. Those with families, and the age of their children. Another list of any who were terminated during the project run.”
She looked up at him, the slightest glint in her eye.
“Have I just been demoted to e-drone?”
“You could do it faster.”
“Unquestionably, but—”
“Yeah, yeah, it’ll cost me. Pervert.” She considered, brightened. “Tell you what. We’ll do a trade. You give me a hand with this, and I’ll consult with you on whatever business deal you’re currently wheeling.”
He paled a little. “Darling, that’s so sweet of you. I couldn’t possibly infringe on your valuable time.”
“Coward.”
“You bet.”
“Come on, give me a shot. What have you got cooking?”
“I’ve a number of pots simmering just now.” He dipped his hands in his pockets and tried to think which project or negotiation currently on his plate she could poke into with the least possible damage.
Her desk ’link beeped.