The PowWow

Curtis opened the door before I knocked. He blinked twice when he saw us. I sensed a patttern forming from our last visit.

“Back so soon,” he said.

Jacob stepped in without waiting. “We require assistance.”

There he was. Back to normal. No doubt, just sure presence. Just… Jacob.

I had missed him.

I followed him inside, shutting the door behind me.

Curtis’ place hadn’t changed. Still immaculate. Still arranged like everything had been measured and approved by a higher authority. The faint scent of disinfectant lingered in the air.

I held up a hand. “We’ve got the plate. Mercedes. Company car. We know where he is.”

Curtis nodded slowly. “Then why are you here?”

I glanced at Jacob, then back to Curtis. “Because getting in is the problem.”

That got his attention.

I leaned against the back of a chair. “The building’s wired. Cameras everywhere. Not the kind you walk past and hope for the best. The kind you get recorded by, tagged, timestamped, and filed before you hit the lobby.”

Curtis’ lips pressed together slightly. Thinking.

“So,” I continued, “whatever that thing was in his office—small, black, killed a camera for thirty seconds—we’re going to need something like that. Only… better.”

Curtis stared at me for a second.

Then—he laughed. Not loudly, but enough.

“Well,” he said, rolling his chair back, “it’s nice to be appreciated.”

Jacob nodded. “It is good to be appreciative to God for the talents He gave you.”

Curtis deflated just slightly. “Yes. That.”

Yes, there was definitely a pattern forming.

He reached down beside his chair and grabbed a canvas bag. Dug into it like he was pulling out groceries. Then tossed something at me. I caught it on instinct.

Small, rectangular, cold metal casing, a recessed switch, and a faint ring along the edge.

I looked up slowly. “…you’re kidding. This looks almost exactly the same.”

Curtis shook his head. “What? Small and obscure, yet productive. Shouldn’t everyone have one?”

He leaned back, folding his hands across his chest. “Sometimes, you just have to get into things.”

I turned the device over in my hand. “Range?”

“Localized,” he said. “Directional bleed if you’re sloppy. You won’t be.”

“Duration?”

“Depends how long you hold the trigger. Ten seconds. Thirty if you push it.”

I nodded. “That’ll do.”

Curtis pointed at me. “It’ll interrupt signal, not erase it. You’ve got a window, not invisibility.”

“Story of my life,” I muttered.

He ignored that. “Just push the button when needed and proceed. Try not to keep it depressed too long.”

Jacob stepped toward the door. “Thank you, Curtis.”

Curtis watched him leave with a raised eyebrow.

I poked him. “See? I’m not the only rude one.”

The drive was quiet. Not tense or heavy. Just… focused.

Jacob sat beside me, looking out the window, hands resting loosely on his legs. Present. That was the difference. Not withdrawn, nor wrestling. Ready, yet not overly eager either.

I tightened my grip on the wheel slightly. “Good to have you back.”

He didn’t look at me. “I never left.”

I smiled. Yeah, definitely missed him.

Neph Lim Industries looked different at night.

Less impressive, somehow still a little foreboding though. The glass reflected darkness instead of sky. The polished stone seemed dull under scattered light. It was the darkness that was foreboding.

Several parking lot lamps were out. They weren’t broken that I could see, they were just… off.

I slowed the Highlander as we rolled in. “That’s different.”

Jacob’s eyes moved across the lot. “Deliberate.”

Yeah. That tracked.

I parked near the edge, away from the main entrance. The engine clicked as it cooled. We sat there for a second, just looking.

The building wasn’t asleep. Lights were on inside, though not all of them. Still… too many.

Too evenly spaced. Like someone had left them on for a reason.

I picked up the device Curtis had given me. “Ready?”

Jacob opened his door. “Yes.”

Of course he was.

We moved across the lot without rushing. No reason to draw attention. No reason to pretend we belonged. I kept the device low in my hand, thumb resting lightly against the switch.

Cameras were easy to spot once you started looking. Corners. Angles. Blind spots that weren’t actually blind.

“Three on the front,” I murmured. “Two overlapping. One wide.”

Jacob nodded once.

I stepped into position, lifted the device slightly—and pressed.

There was a light click. No flash. No weird lights. No humming. My heart skipped a beat.

The nearest camera had a bright red light underneath it, that blinked once, then went out.

I pointed it out to Jacob, who nodded again, efficient conversationalist that he is.

I moved. “Go.”

We crossed the first stretch. I released the switch.

The red light on the camera behind us came on again.

We repeated the pattern. Advance. Pulse. Move. Release.

Each time the camera light went out then on again after we had passed. We were artificial shadows.

Curtis had been right. It wasn’t invisibility. Just opportunity dressed up as technology. The Lord provides — sometimes through Curtis, apparently. We reached the entrance.

The lights inside were on. Bright. But only in certain areas, almost like progression lines.

No security desk. No guard. No movement.

Just a wide glass door. Slightly open? What?

I stopped. “That’s not subtle.”

Jacob stepped up beside me. “The lion does not hide.”

I exhaled slowly. Yeah. That felt about right.

I pushed the door open. It moved easily, without resistance or alarm. Nothing.

The lobby was exactly as we’d left it. Clean. Perfect. Empty.

I stepped inside and Jacob followed. Having that presence beside me was comforting.

The door closed softly behind us, without sound.

I glanced around. “Either he’s not here…”

Jacob shook his head once. “No.”

I followed his gaze down the corridor. Lights on. All the way through. A crooked finger of invitation and the unmistakable feeling—we hadn’t broken in.

We’d arrived.

Jacob’s voice rolled low beside me. “The lion beckons.”

I swallowed once. Then stepped forward anyway.

Because at this point—turning back wasn’t an option.