"Stop checking it. Nobody's going to steal your share while you're sitting on it."
The rough-looking man beside the cargo hatch withdrew his hand from beneath his coat and scowled. "Last time, I was six tabs short."
"Last time, you couldn't count."
His companions laughed as their transport rolled through Linden's warehouse district. Above the low roofs, the city's towers shone against the evening sky, connected by bright walkways and streams of passing vehicles.
Down here, yellow lamps lit loading bays, stained walls, and workers dragging the last deliveries indoors.
The transport's enclosed cargo compartment rattled whenever its wheels crossed a crack. Four armed ruffians rode on the rear platform, their weapons resting within reach.
"Laugh all you want," the first man grumbled. "I'm counting it before we unload."
"Then count quietly, you idiot! Some of us have headaches."
