“Relax, Nightmare,” said Ingrid, grinning. “I’ll take care of everything.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THEY SET UP inside an abandoned fourth-floor office across the street from Cloven Cross Library. The space held remnants of squatters coming and going over the past decades—layers of graffiti and drifts of garbage in the corners. Scavengers had picked every ounce of scrap metal clean, including the doorknobs and the wires in the walls. An old makeshift desk of plywood sat in one corner beneath a layer of dust, and some of the cubicle walls still stood, smelling like mildew and punctured with staples and nail holes and scraps of posters long ago ripped away. On one of the walls Nova noticed a thirty-year-old calendar, still stuck on July, showing a faded photo of some far-off coastal town, where all the sun-bleached buildings were painted in shades of coral and peach. Nova could imagine some bored office drone dreaming about traveling there someday, a place as different from Gatlon City as they could possibly get.
The Renegades had prepared for the evening by bringing a large soft blanket that Adrian spread out over the filthy carpet as soon as they settled into the space. Ruby laid down some pillows for comfort before promptly throwing herself down on top of them. Oscar opened a cooler and offered everyone a soda and some pretzels, which Nova declined.
She paced to the windows and looked out onto the library across the street. It was just past eleven o’clock and the library had been closed for hours, indicated by a plain sign hanging from a string on the front doors. The entire two-story building was pitch-black inside, and though there were old light sconces hung beside the entryway, they seemed to have burned out long ago, leaving only a solitary street lamp by the sidewalk to cast a dreary amber glow over the front facade.
It was a dignified building. The exterior was all massive brownstone, and the windows were framed in dark oak and accented with prominent keystones. The doors in the entryway were flanked by double entasis columns supporting a bold triangular pediment, the words PUBLIC LIBRARY long ago engraved into the stone.
Despite how its imposing facade had weathered over the years, there were clear signs that it was not strictly maintained, from a rash of invasive ivy taking over the west wall to great patches of shingles missing from the roof. Cracked windows left unfixed and garden beds around its foundation that had once been home to tidy boxwoods now gone wild with weeds.
From their lookout, Nova could see partway down the alley that separated the library from a discount-ticket movie theater, where a row of dumpsters and trash cans disappeared into shadows. There were two small doors along that wall of the library, neither as formal as the main entryway, but both still trimmed in ornate stone moldings. The effect was lessened, though, by the iron bars that someone had outfitted over both doors at some point in the last hundred and fifty years. One door could have been an emergency exit, Nova guessed. The other, perhaps, a back entryway for staff or a place for deliveries.
There was no activity in the alley. There was no activity anywhere. Even the ticket booth of the movie theater was dark.
Ingrid and the Librarian had had more than twenty-four hours to prepare for the Renegades’ visit. That should have been plenty of time for him to cancel any illegitimate business dealings and make sure nothing incriminating was left lying around.
“What do you think?” said Adrian, appearing at her side.
Nova kept her attention on the street below. “What exactly are we looking for?”
“Villains,” Oscar said. “Doing villainous things.”
Nova sent him an unimpressed look.
“Anything that could be qualified as suspicious activity,” said Adrian, pulling her gaze toward him. He returned the look with a shrug. “I figured, if this is a cover for illegal weapon sales, or anything else, then all of that activity would happen through the back doors, right? And it probably wouldn’t happen during normal business hours.” His frown deepened. “I don’t think, anyway.” He nodded toward the alley. “If we see someone coming or going, especially if we recognize them, or if they leave with something that looks like it could be weapons, then we’ll tail them and see what we can find out.”
Nova smothered the start of a smile. Twice she had come here with Ingrid to offer trades for equipment they needed, and both times it had been in the middle of the day and they had entered through the front doors, like any other patron. Gene Cronin had a system set up for his side business—a handful of specific books tucked in among the stacks that acted as a code word to the receptionist when brought up to the desk together. It was a discreet way to indicate they weren’t there for reading material.