They sat in silence for a while, watching the garage. Shamira was suppressing a desire to go in with guns blazing, something she had never experienced as a living beat cop in midtown Atlanta. Her hand caressed the handle of her gun as if it were Clara's leg, smooth and hard and promising her great fun.

'You are one sick puppy,' she thought. Finally, the garage door opened again and cars came streaming out and began to separate into two groups. "Crap, now what?"

"There is Jonas's car," Banshee said. "He is our primary target."

"But the last time we saw those patrol cars out on the road, they were...