A blur of motion on the banked screens displaying the various camera feeds through the warehouse district pulled my attention away from the news. Dead air anyway.

No word on Benny. He was still alive.

I frowned as three sleek, black sedans pulled across one screen. Tracked their progress to the next screen, and then to another.

Too rich to have any good reason to be in this district. I jumped to my feet and grabbed my bag, stuffed my deck inside and threw on my sandals. By the time I hit the door, the cars had stopped in front of our place.

“Shit!” I was out the door and running through the warehouse. Fear transformed the tornado of speed analog into a dark, constricting tunnel, echoing with many footprints.

Someone on my left! A flash of pale features, shaved scalp. Something black in his grip, and the cold certainty of a trained killer in his eyes.

He pulled the trigger on his gun, and electric leads snapped through my thin shirt. He stabbed his thumb down, and the whole world crashed down on my head.