The central police precinct was a fortress of concrete and reinforced glass, situated in the heart of the Macau peninsula. It was designed to withstand riots, armed assaults, and natural disasters.
It wasn't designed to stop a Vanguard infiltration team coming up through the municipal drainage system.
The night was damp. The air above ground smelled like rain on asphalt and distant exhaust. We didn't use the front doors.
The air in the subterranean tunnel was thick, smelling of stagnant water, rust, and decaying organic matter. The smell hit first. Wet and sour. It sat in the back of my throat.
I waded through knee-deep runoff. The water was black. It was cold. It soaked through my boots immediately and pressed against my ankles like ice. With every step it pulled at me. _Shluk. Shluk._ The sound was loud in the narrow space.
