The man closed the door behind her. The other one was already moving around to the far side, to the opposite rear door, to sit beside her and ensure she stayed where she was supposed to be. She reached across and opened the far door from the inside before he reached the handle. She was out before anyone had fully processed what was happening. The street on the far side of the car was a narrow service road running alongside the gym building, the kind of street that existed for deliveries and refuse collection, that connected to the grey zone's internal network of passages. She knew it. She had walked it twice on her morning route variations. She was already moving when she heard the car door on the near side open. She ran. Not the careful not-running of Vane Street after the gallery.

