55
I hare through the main room of the gym. See Jacobsen flying down the escalators. As I bound down after him, he ducks into the men's changing rooms. By the time I follow him in, he's got hold of his wallet and car keys and he's heading out of another exit at the far end of the room.
I did Jacobsen the favour of breaking into his locker, of course. He doesn't have to fiddle with the key like I do, getting it off my wrist and into the slot with arms and wrists and fingers that don't want to do anything other than shake from sheer strain. Still, I get the key in, wang the door open and grab my stuff.
I call Naomi on the run. "Get the car started. He's on his way out."
"Are you okay?" Naomi says, "You sound out of—"
"Just start the damn car!" I say, cutting off the call.
I charge thro
