18
The plan was simple enough. The Shaolin and his beefy entourage exited the back of The Ambrosian the same way they’d come in. An alleyway ran behind restaurant row, a boardwalk bazaar currently occupied by the thronging anthill of Martian bluechippers conducting a standard shift change in the factory sector. Five, ten minutes later, and things would settle down again into another eight hours of steady but uncrowded life in the sector until the next shift change. Qinlao and his handlers had a window of crowd cover during that time. After that, they’d be a little more visible.
We, on the other hand, left The Ambrosian through the front door and stole through the shop next door into the back alleyway. It was technically closed and a front for Galatz’s crew, so a hop, skip, and a jump lat
