The Guard

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“We have to see this through to the end.”

Resupplying makes Harry nervous. Even though we know our way blindfold, he folds the basement floor plan out on the table: one hundred and twenty parking spaces spread over forty secure garages, one for each of the thousand-square-meter luxury apartments. It would have been smarter to make the basement a simple rectangle. Perhaps that wasn’t possible because of the building’s construction and foundations. I’m no engineer. Still, a rectangular design with the parking spaces arranged neatly down the long sides would have made security a lot simpler. Harry suspects that the irregular layout was designed to meet the clients’ requirements. With comfort and privacy taking priority. You know how these things go, he says.

I catch a whiff of his agitation. The smell of walnut, fresh walnuts that have just fallen from the tree, with hard, green hulls. We study the floor plan together. I lay a hand on his shoulder, realize that’s not a good idea and pull it back. It’s quiet. Out of habit, I touch the weapon at my hip; there’s no direct danger. I take a step to one side so that the bare bulb can light every corner of the plan.

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