Thorvin didn't much notice the first few bangs and pings against the sides of the van. He was busy. He'd managed to pull the G-6 torque converter out of the drive train of an otherwise ruined Gaz-Willys Nomad. That was like finding gold. The G-6 was built like an anvil, durable as a slab of tempered steel. Finding one amid the wasted, ghost-haunted toxic graveyard of Newark's Sector 13 was a freaking miracle, though it didn't really surprise him. He'd been hunting through the crumbling projects and derelict tenements around the old airport for years. That was how he'd dug up the City of Linden no-parking sign, now hanging in his garage. And who saw any of those standing around anymore? Thorvin knew there were treasures here, minor mechanical marvels, gleaming motes of engineering majesty not apparent, much less comprehensible to the ordinary eye. He just hadn't expected to stumble over, of all things, a G-6 torquer. The prizes to be had in this sector ran heavily on the side of wafer-guided electronics, appliances, household drek.