The carrier’s left hand went under the table while his right steadied the bundle.
Bram had done the same thing in three different buildings.
He did not know what was in the hand yet. He knew the movement: an ordinary load set down to make a private space for a small device. He moved before the carrier could withdraw his arm, catching the wrist against the table’s outer leg without twisting it farther than necessary.
“Leave it there,” he said.
The carrier jerked back. A small dark rectangle dropped onto the cloth beneath the supplies instead of onto the floor. The local defender beside Bram took the man’s other arm and told him to step clear of the clinic entrance.
“What are you doing?” the carrier demanded.
Bram recognized him when he turned fully. They had worked different sections under the same command structure. Recognition made the anger sharper but the evidence no broader.
“What did you put beneath the table?” Bram asked.
