Gabriel pulled the heavy hemp knot tight with a sharp thwack, his eyes flicking up to meet Wei Xian’s unyielding glare across the rusted frame of the cargo bicycle. "The idler pulley is fine, Wei Xian. It’s had three coats of machine oil and a brand-new bushing since Tuesday.""It has a wobble that you could drive a fishing skiff through, and you know it," Wei Xian snapped, tossing the greasy rag onto a stack of empty fuel tins with a wet slap. He stepped down onto the sun-bleached veranda boards, the timber groaning beneath his boots. "If you throw a chain twenty miles north of the Jurong checkpoint with nobody around to spot you except stray dogs and whatever scavengers are squatting in the drainage culverts, you're going to be pushing this fifty-pound heap of iron all the way back in the dark. I'm coming with you.""We talked about this, Wei Xian," Gabriel said, leaning his weight against the handlebars as the cargo rig listed slightly to t

"You're severely underestimating how much trouble I can cause entirely on my own," Gabriel muttered, but he didn't reach down to stop Wei Xian from tossing his heavy tool roll directly into the front basket, right on top of the carefully sorted water flasks. The canvas bag landed with a dull, heavy thud that made the wooden slats groan. "If we hit a washout on the expressway and smash every single spare spark plug we're carrying, I'm billing the repairs straight to your personal scrap ledger.""You can bill me in fresh limes and dried stingray when we get back, provided we don't end up wrapped around a concrete median strip first," Wei Xian retorted, adjusting the strap of his tool roll with a sharp yank. He swung his leg over the crossbar of a lighter, single-rider utility bike he had dragged out from under the stilt house, his boots finding the pedals with a familiar, mechanical click. "Move your cargo rig, Gabriel. The sun's already cle

"Wait, hold up," Gabriel hissed, braking his heavy cargo rig so hard the rear tire skidded sideways through the loose sand of the embankment. "Look at the gate house roof. The corrugated zinc sheets are pulled back. Someone’s been inside the wiring conduit."Wei Xian brought his utility bike to an abrupt stop, his boots dragging in the grit to steady himself as he squinted up through the tangled canopy of the coastal scrub. "That wasn't wind damage. Look at the clean shear marks on the retaining clips. Somebody took a cold chisel to the main copper line.""Which means the automated winch control box isn't just broken; it's been deliberately gutted," Gabriel muttered, dropping the kickstand with a dull metallic thud and reaching down to unbuckle the flap of his holster. His fingers brushed the cold, oiled leather of his service pistol, though he hoped to God he wouldn't need to clear the leather before noon. "Auntie Mei sai

Gabriel unclipped the canvas pannier from his rear rack with a soft, practiced snap of the buckle, his fingers brushing the cool, salted skin of the prime dried stingray inside. "Stay here by the oil drum, Wei Xian. If I’m not back out through that side loading door in twenty minutes, don't try to be a hero—just pedal your ass back down to Auntie Mei’s dredge and tell them the diplomacy failed."Wei Xian’s hand shot out, catching Gabriel by the heavy canvas strap of his vest before he could rise from the crouch. "Walk in there empty-handed and unarmed besides a bag of dead fish, and they won't even give you twenty seconds, Gabriel. Let me rig a quick diversion with that spare car battery and a length of ignition wire. We can short out their lighting panel and walk in while they're scrambling for lanterns.""No diversions," Gabriel whispered back, his voice dropping an octave as he gently peeled Wei Xian&r

"Pick up the bag," Jamil ordered, his finger tightening imperceptibly against the trigger of the bolt-action rifle as he leaned further over the rusty railing of the second-story catwalk. "I said drop it, not pile it up like an offering. And if there's nothing in there worth more than a rusted bicycle chain, you're swimming back down the straits."Gabriel didn't reach for the canvas bag immediately. Instead, he kept his posture relaxed, his hands resting easily on his hips while his eyes swept the cluttered interior of the old customs warehouse. Stacks of rotting cardboard boxes, empty fuel drums, and tangled heaps of commercial fishing nets choked the ground floor."Open it yourself if you don't trust a visitor," Gabriel said, his voice level and entirely devoid of fear. He nudged the bulky canvas pannier forward with the toe of his boot. "Go on. Reach down and see what kind of toll a bag of dead fish pays compared to a box tha