There was something hard and rectangular slipped deep inside the leather lining.

I worked my fingernail into the tight slit, pulling at the thread.

The fabric gave way slightly with a soft snap.

A small, black corner of plastic peeked out from the dark leather.

I heard the sound of heavy boots crunching on the gravel path just above the bridge.

Bishop’s ears went flat against his head, and he let out a silent breath.

A bright flashlight beam swept across the dark water of the creek, moving directly toward us.

I pulled Bishop closer, pressing my back against the rough stone of the bridge’s arch.

The beam of light cut through the falling rain, turning the drops into falling silver needles.

My fingers worked frantically at the torn thread of the heavy leather collar.

The plastic corner emerged further, slick and cold against my skin.

It was a small, rugged USB drive, sealed in a thin layer of waterproof wax to protect it from the elements.

I pulled it free, the wet leather smelling of old copper and earth.