They were driving along in another car, one stolen from the Sheraton’s underground parking lot. They’d sprinted down the fire stairs from the twelfth floor before the hotel’s security response—probably massive, considering the mayhem that had broken loose—could arrive on the scene. Modal wanted to grab the same car they’d had earlier (his Ingram and the AK-97 were still in the trunk) but Sly convinced him that risking the security in the Washington Athletic Club garage was too much of a gamble. Besides, the Sheraton lot was such easy pickings that it took him only a minute to bust into and hot-wire the ignition of a sleek Saab Dynamit. Now they were cruising south on I-5, out of the downtown core.