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BY THE TIME RAY GOT enough change together to hop on the train back downtown, the sun could no longer fend off the storm clouds. Cold wind stung Ray’s bare face on the walk from Chinatown Station up College Street. No-Tongue’s clothes weren’t thick and he made a mental note to look for another coat somewhere.
Headlights illuminated the length of Hill Street. The lunchtime commuters all thought they had a special shortcut to get onto the 110 to head to important meetings in other parts of town, but their hive mind caused a traffic jam. The rain stopped cars in Los Angeles like they were driving through a hurricane. At least the line of headlights gave him plenty of illumination as he returned to the scene of the crime.
His yellow car, covered in patches of rust, registration dated Mar
