Cold Air in Unit Seventeen

On Thursday afternoon, the old Southside Cold Storage looked like a whale the city had forgotten. Shen Yan rode his electric scooter around to the rear entrance. Rainwater covered his shoes. Shutdown unit 17 was set among a row of rusted metal cabinets, its door secured with a new padlock. He should have turned around. The book had not explained what a lead was, or whether forcing a lock counted as following one. “Looking for this?” Someone spoke behind him. Lin Wan stood beyond the puddles under a black umbrella, her trench coat replaced by a sharp dark suit. A ring of keys rested in her hand. She did not look surprised to see him. She looked as if she had been waiting. “Were you following me?” Shen asked.