He ducked into a doorway just after turning the corner and shouldered the door open. He had about 10 seconds before they turned the corner, too. He took a quick inventory of the room he was in – a fire extinguisher beside the door, a short table to his right with some scattered papers on it, boxes and crates piled everywhere. A storeroom in a back alley – almost a complete circle from where they first spotted him. He grabbed the extinguisher and ran north.

Keep moving. Don’t stop or they’ll finish the job.

Weaving his way between stacks of shipping crates, he made it as far as the center of the room when they kicked the partially closed door out of their way. “Don’t make this harder than it already is!” they shouted.

Bullocks. They must have planted a tracker on me. Can’t run and no time to look for it, I’ll have to improvise.