Amateurs Hayden: Desperate

He stood up, walked to the far wall of the warehouse, and pressed the key of light against a brick that looked no different from any other. The brick dissolved. Beyond it was not the alleyway he expected, but a garden. Moonlit. Silent. And in the center of the garden, a small wooden birdhouse, identical to the ones his father used to make.

It was a trap. He knew it. But the promise of five thousand dollars cash—just for showing up—had a way of smoothing over common sense. desperate amateurs hayden

Dawn broke. The box on the metal table was gone. The others woke to find crisp envelopes beside their heads—five thousand dollars each, no strings attached. But Hayden’s envelope held something else: a deed to the warehouse, and a handwritten note from the radio voice. He stood up, walked to the far wall

Desperate amateur. That’s what they’d called him. Moonlit