“How do you want to handle this?” Dixon asked, seeing Gibbon approach the building. He had ridden in on a shabby 12-speed bicycle, which he didn’t even bother to secure to the bike rack. Despite being at least fifty pounds of muscle heavier, he was easily recognizable. He was about six feet tall, shaved head, with a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, just like in his mug shot.

“We’ve got to be careful,” Watson replied, not taking her eyes off of the mark. “I don’t want to risk tipping him off that we are here and having him take off on us.”

“On a bike?” Dixon asked, scoffing.

Watson shot...