The good shepherd was armed to the teeth.

Even if I never avenge my beating, these dirty cops will get what they have coming, Terry thought.

He spotted the police tail in his rearview, a tan ‘88 Chevy Nova, that looked conspicuously inconspicuous. He rolled down his window and lit a cigarette. He exhaled, a plume of smoke curling out the window, as he cycled through his options.

The front door was not an option. No element of surprise. The fire escape lent itself to surprise, but had a problem of its own. It would leave him a sitting duck with no escape route.

Terry started to regret the call to Banks. It significantly limited his options. And if the police had the phone bugged, they’d know he wasn’t their pawn anymore.

I have to take this to the streets, he decided.

He parked near the apartment and found a pay phone. He would make one more phone call to Twiggy Banks.

“Hello?!” Banks barked.

“Come out and play. The pigs are in a tan ‘88 Chevy Nova. Where are we headed?”

“I know a place.”