Al gave a reassuring look to Becky. “Not ta worry, Precious. Don’t expect I’ll be using the Gaz after tonight, so it’ll be the first an’ last time it gits caught buzzin’ the target site.”

He gave an off-hand salute to the room and went out through the smoke-filled bar. Put the truck’s tailgate down to facilitate loading the bicycle and then popped the door lock for Bronwean.

The first thing he did once they were headed north was to send the boathouse address to all the team comms he had. Those he didn’t he was sure Tanya would forward. Then he voice-to-texted Tanya. <<Woulda liked ta see yer civvie digs. But even if’n ya got the weight ta kabosh all the eight zabillion cams for us, ya can’t do nothin’ about the other eight zabillion socially-networked personal cams in that area. Even if none o’ yer Middle Kingdom friends is still holdin’ a grudge, well, my relations with the Mediterranean side o’ the criminal brotherhood done deteriorated somethin’ fierce since the work we did together. An’ a distraction like that wouldn’t be good fer the job. So I’m steerin’ clear o’ downtown fer the nonce. You take care, an’ we’ll hook up later.>>

That done, he turned to the fidgety adolescent beauty in the shotgun seat. “Bit of a drive, here ta Beacon Hill. So less’n ya want ol’ Al ta crank the psychobilly all the way up there, ya best start tellin’ stories. Somethin’ tells me ya got a few. Maybe you could start with why yer breakin’ into this zero-life-expectancy perfession ‘stead o’ makin’ considerable more money jist gittin’ yer picture took all day.”