A red and white cruiser marked for Minuteman Security Services Inc., the 
local law, comes rushing up the block, strobe lights flashing, siren squealing. 
Tikki had nothing to do with the killing just down the sidewalk, and she does 
not plan to hang around long enough to see whether or not the law will believe 
it. She turns and steps around the corner of Spit’s, into the alley there. Two 
minutes later, she’s heading down a long tunnel leading to the Market Street
subway. The next arriving train fires her across town toward the Schuylkill 
River.