“Gentlemen, report.”

Booker hated these meetings. Not only did he despise the bad lighting these shady organization types seemed to thrive in, but they never had anything of importance to discuss. He wasn’t sure if that meant they were failing or doing a really good job.

His partner, Lawrence (or “Sentinel” as he demanded to be called during these meetings), spoke first.

“The Rabbit is making his way through the hedge maze more quickly than anticipated. I suspect his relationship with the Fox to be the source of his determination. He could become a problem if left unchecked, so we’ll be leaving breadcrumbs on his doorstep.”’

“Excellent,” replied the shadowy figure generally referred to as Number One. “And you, Locksmith?”

Booker sighed at his codename and said, “What Sentinel said. And, uh, the guy we have working that Thai restaurant is stealing from the register and I’m pretty sure he spit in my noodles.”

Number One’s displeasure was so obvious it was almost visible in the near-darkness.