Nina said yes on Thursday.
She walked into the body shop on 68th Street at nine in the morning with a bag over her shoulder and a look on her face that said she'd already decided but wanted Darius to think she'd thought about it. She set the bag on the office desk, pulled out a laptop, three notebooks, and a calculator, and said, "I need a real desk, a real chair, and a door that locks."
"I'll get them today."
"And a coffee maker. I don't function without coffee."
Darius looked at her. "Anything else?"
"A number. A phone number nobody else has. I don't use my personal phone for this. You get me a burner. I get you a burner. We don't mix channels."
Darius reached into his jacket and pulled out two phones. He'd bought six the day before, prepaid, no contracts, no names. He set one on the desk. Nina picked it up, turned it over, put it in her bag.
