Harry lets them sit.

  That's the bit Tony misses, because Tony's already halfway into his coffee and halfway into a joke that hasn't quite landed yet.

  The café's right by the river. Plastic chairs scrape when anyone shifts. Metal tables wobble if you lean too hard. The coffee's fine. Nobody's here for the coffee.

  Tony orders first and turns it into a performance. Lenny follows. Arthur pretends to read the board while watching reflections in the glass. Cameron takes the chair that gives him the door.

  Harry arrives late.

  Not rushed. Not apologetic. He spots Cameron straight away and smiles like he's found what he came for. Drops into the empty chair like it's always been his.

  "Good to see you," Harry says. "Was hoping I'd catch you."

  Tony looks over his cup. "Rah. Speak of the devil."

  Harry glances at him. "We've met."

  "Yeah," Tony says. "Unforgettable."

  Harry nods and moves on. "Just wanted to say thanks."

  Cameron lets that sit.

  "For what," Tony asks.

  "For standing down the other night," Harry says, eyes on Cameron. "Saved me a headache."

  Tony laughs. "Any time. Community service."

  "You were helpful," Harry says. "Clean."

  Arthur shifts, barely.

  Harry turns to him. "You're Arthur. Your notes are tidy."

  Arthur blinks. "You been reading my stuff."

  "Yeah. Easy to follow."

  Tony snorts. "That's mad."

  "Efficient," Harry says.

  He takes Cameron's water without asking, a quick sip, sets it back exactly where it was.

  "I told a few people you're reasonable," Harry says to Cameron. "That carries weight."

  Tony leans back. "Your people."

  Harry meets his eyes. "The ones who decide who gets waved through."

  Tony grins. "Man's chatting like this is Canary Wharf."

  Harry nods. "Places blur."

  The table goes quiet.

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  Lenny fills it. "So you came out just to say cheers."

  "Mostly," Harry says.

  Tony rolls his eyes. "No one does mostly."

  Harry looks back to Cameron. "I'm not interested in running your lane."

  Tony points between them. "That's exactly what you're doing."

  Harry lets it hang. "You handle things when they kick off. You're good at that."

  Tony beams. "Hear that."

  "I handle them earlier," Harry says. "Quieter."

  Tony's grin tightens. "Same outcome."

  "Different shape," Harry says.

  Arthur leans forward.

  Cameron lifts a hand. Arthur stops.

  Harry clocks it.

  "I logged the last thing as a misunderstanding," Harry says. "People relax when they hear that."

  Tony laughs. "You're welcome again."

  "I described you as enthusiastic."

  Tony squints. "That's cheeky."

  "Only if you wear it."

  Harry stands.

  "If anything comes up," he says to Cameron, "I'll ring you direct."

  Tony scoffs. "We're right here."

  Harry looks at him, then back to Cameron. "I know."

  He leaves.

  Tony watches him go. "That was strange."

  "That was a warning," Arthur says.

  Tony waves it off. "That was a bloke trying to sound bigger than he is."

  Lenny glances at Cameron. "He wasn't."

  Tony drains his cup. "He was. Poorly."

  Cameron keeps his eyes on the door.

  Same café. Same river noise.

  Different balance.

  They don't clock the gate straight away.

  Tony's still talking, replaying the water job like it's already legend. Arthur's gone quiet. Lenny's watching the pavement ahead.

  The service access comes up quick. Old gate. Shortcut everyone uses.

  Tony reaches it first. One hand. No look.

  The gate holds.

  He tries again, shoulder in, still smiling. "Oi."

  Nothing.

  Arthur slows. "That's new."

  "It sticks," Tony says.

  He fishes his keys out anyway, habit more than hope.

  "Since when does anyone touch this," he mutters.

  Lenny crouches. "Latch is free."

  Arthur steps closer, reads the laminated notice.

  Tony reads it out loud. "Temporary. Access under review. See."

  He knocks the metal. Sharp. Annoyed. "Hello."

  The gate gives him nothing back.

  "Who put this up," Tony asks.

  Arthur checks his phone. "No date."

  Tony laughs. "Figures."

  "We can go round," Lenny says.

  "That's long," Tony replies.

  "So," Arthur says.

  Tony opens his mouth, then closes it again. Smiles. "Alright. Come on."

  They turn away.

  Tony glances back, waiting for the gate to explain itself.

  It doesn't.

  Arthur snaps a photo and pockets his phone.

  Cameron keeps walking.

  Cameron doesn't stop.

  His eyes keep moving as his feet do.

  Side street choked with scaffolding.

  Steps down to the towpath, chained.

  Footbridge ahead, narrow, bad angles.

  Behind them, the gate again, cameras set wide.

  He slows half a step.

  Tony drifts wide. Arthur drops in behind. Lenny stays close.

  Cameron adjusts pace. They match it.

  Tony laughs. "If that's his big move, I'm underwhelmed."

  Cameron lets it pass.

  They walk.

  A loading bay slides by. Shutter half down. Used to be open.

  Arthur glances at Cameron. "You seeing this."

  Cameron nods.

  Tony clocks the tone. "Seeing what."

  "Routes," Cameron says.

  They reach the bridge.

  Cameron pauses, checks ahead. Two people lean on the rail, talking, placed well.

  He steps on.

  Tony follows. "Next time I see him, I'm pressing him."

  Halfway across, Cameron stops.

  Tony nearly walks into him. "Bro."

  "If something kicks off here," Cameron says, "where you moving."

  Tony blinks. "What."

  "Say it."

  Tony looks properly now.

  Alley. Chain. Cameras. Rail.

  He shrugs. "Forward."

  "And when that closes," Cameron says.

  Tony opens his mouth.

  Nothing comes out.

  "There's no sideways," Lenny says.

  Arthur breathes out. "That's new."

  Tony forces a grin. "You lot are deeping this too much."

  Cameron turns back toward the street.

  The ground answers before anyone else does.

  Not a crack.

  A flex.

  Concrete taking weight like it's been asked the same question too many times.

  Tony feels it and grins. "There it is."

  Arthur swears. "Kam..."

  Too late.

  The pressure snaps sideways.

  A service hatch lifts out of its frame like it's been flicked. Bolts shear. Metal screams. The road buckles in a shallow wave and stops.

  People shout. Phones come up.

  Cameron steps forward.

  Heat rolls off him, dense and contained. The staff hums once, low and heavy, like something settling into place.

  "Back," Tony shouts, already moving. "Everyone back."

  Someone slips. Tony hauls them clear without slowing.

  The street folds.

  Not collapse.

  Surrender.

  Asphalt dips a foot, bending into a new shape that holds.

  Arthur's shouting into his tablet. Lenny runs vertical along a shopfront, kicks loose signage out of the fall zone.

  Cameron plants the staff.

  The vibration punches through the block.

  Windows rattle. A car alarm dies mid-note.

  The pressure fights him.

  Good.

  Cameron leans in.

  Heat shimmers the air until the world stutters at the edges. The staff rings, metal arguing with ground.

  The fold locks.

  Silence slams down.

  Then the noise rushes back.

  Tony whoops. "YES."

  Arthur spins. "You just blew past every line!"

  Cameras are already turning. Drones hum overhead.

  Cameron looks up.

  Let them.

  Harry wanted him reasonable.

  Harry wanted him contained.

  Cameron chose visible.

  A security unit barrels into the street. Someone with authority stitched into their jacket starts shouting words that don't matter anymore.

  Tony laughs, breathless. "Mate. You see their faces?"

  Arthur's gone pale. "This is going to land."

  Cameron rests the staff against his shoulder.

  "I know," he says.

  The ground beneath his feet is warm. Solid. Holding.

  He looks down the street, already counting exits again.

  Harry redrew the map.

  Cameron just tore a hole in it.