I turned one of the rear monitors. A dozen aircars trailed us at various distances, most just heading in the same general direction, I knew. All had darkened windows; all had real-looking license numbers and registration marks. Nothing particularly suspicious stood out.
“Which one?” I asked.
“Black sedan, three back.”
I recognized the model: a sporty ten-seater with an overpowered engine, fast and strong but too wide on turns. I’d almost bought one once, when I still had delusions of the glamorous life-styles of those who stole for a living. When I ran estimates on maintenance and fuel, though, it was enough to put me off luxury cars for life. These days I would never have considered one: too flashy. Much better to be quiet, subtle, and safe. Dogs would probably never realize that simpl
