The laminated sheets didn’t flutter like ordinary paper.
They whistled through the hot air of Sub-Level 4 like spinning circular saw blades.
“Keep your heads down!” Julian ordered in a sharp, clipped voice.
He raised his aluminum barcode scanner to deflect a card flying straight at Elena’s throat.
CLACK!
The edge of the laminated card hit the scanner barrel and bounced off into the dark.
“Those aren’t red-ink sheets,” Elena said, crouching low against a steel composing table. “Look at the color on the face.”
“Look at the ink on the floor,” Mac called out, aiming his flashlight beam at the deck. “It looks like your ledger ink, kid.”
