Chapter 4: The Bus Terminal
The neon lights of the downtown central bus terminal flickered through the grimy windows of Elena’s sedan as she pulled into a metered parking spot across the street. It was 5:00 AM, the hour when the city felt most abandoned, caught between the restless nightlife and the early morning commuters. She had left Leo with a trusted neighbor, Mrs. Gable, a retired schoolteacher who lived two doors down and promised to keep all doors bolted.
Elena zipped up her heavy jacket, the cold morning air biting at her cheeks as she stepped out onto the pavement. She walked with purposeful strides toward the terminal entrance, her bag slung securely across her chest. Inside, the cavernous waiting room smelled of stale coffee, industrial floor wax, and damp wool. Rows of orange plastic chairs were mostly empty, save for a few weary travelers sleeping slumped against their luggage.
She located the bank of metal storage lockers near the rear exit, tucked away in a dimly lit alcove beside the restrooms. Locker 412. The number matched the digits scribbled on the margins of David’s digital affidavit.
The catch was obvious: the locker required a digital RFID key card to open, not a standard physical key. Elena didn't have Clara’s key card, and trying to break the heavy industrial steel door with a crowbar would draw immediate attention from the armed security guard stationed twenty yards away near the ticket counters.
She stood before the bank of lockers, her mind working frantically. How could she get close enough to duplicate or bypass the reader?
A soft chime sounded overhead as an inbound bus from the northern suburbs pulled into the arrival bay. Passengers began streaming through the double doors, dragging heavy suitcases and speaking in hushed, tired tones. Among them, walking with a brisk, professional pace and wearing a tailored trench coat over her light pink shirt, was Clara.
Elena ducked behind a structural concrete pillar just in time. Her heart hammered against her ribs. What was Clara doing here at dawn?
Peering cautiously around the edge of the concrete support, Elena watched as Clara walked purposefully toward the exact same bank of lockers. Clara carried a sleek leather attaché case in one hand. She stopped directly in front of Locker 412, pulled a black plastic RFID card from her pocket, and tapped it against the scanner.
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The green LED light flashed, and the heavy metal door clicked open.
Clara reached inside, pulling out a thick, black canvas zippered bag that clinked with the distinct weight of electronic hardware or hard currency. She tucked the bag under her arm, closed the locker door, and turned around—walking straight toward the exit where Elena was hiding.
