“All staff must wear visible identification at all times.Security tags are color-coded by access level and department.Lost or stolen badges must be reported immediately.Enforcement is at management’s discretion.”— Cassette Nightclub Employee HandbookI circled back to the left alley.The front line wasn’t moving. VIP entrance required looking like I belonged, and I didn’t. The right side was a dead end, the back offered nothing, and midnight wasn’t getting any further away.Which left the staff entrance.I’d watched it earlier. Workers unloading crates, too busy to notice much beyond their immediate tasks. It wasn’t a social problem; it was a timing problem and timing problems I could solve.The delivery van was still there, its anti-grav humming as two workers hauled crates through the propped-open door. They moved with the resignation of people who’d done this a thousand times, not really looking at anything except the next box and the path to wherever it needed to go.I found a spot near the alley’s entrance where I could watch without being obvious about it. Just another guy waiting out the rain, checking his holoband, nothing interesting.The door opened and closed every thirty seconds or so. Workers in, workers out. Nobody stationed there specifically to watch for intruders; they were focused on the job, on getting the delivery done so they could move on to whatever came next.If I could time it right, slip through during a gap in their rhythm...I pulled the MIRAGE app, waiting.I was still working out the timing when a second van descended into the alley.It came down too fast, the pilot either overconfident or just bad at their job, and the landing wasn’t clean. The vehicle’s rear corner caught the first van’s side panel with a screech of metal that echoed off the (...)