The man came back in, his formalls and jacket looking too clean for a restaurant. He stopped under her, held his hand to his ear. “Rear exit clear. Any sign?”
Serena shuddered. I can't think about that right now, she told herself.
“Keep the exits manned, she had to go somewhere. I'll stay here.”
She fished the blow-tube from the backpack, and aimed for the patch of skin below the short-shorn hair above the collar.
The dart sank home, the hand came up to slap the neck, and then the figure crumpled.
She punched out the grill and dropped to the corridor, yanked the neuralink out of his head, and filched the laser from his underarm holster. Bolting out the back door, she ran up the ally to the sidewalk, tossed the neuralink into a drainage grate, dropped the laser into a garbage bin, and
