I parked the delivery van next to Raven’s Rolls Royce. The Blue Beast had crisscrossing lines of bullet dents scourging its whole hide. Zig. Zag, and Tom Electric had staunched their scratches and cuts with rapidly reddening bandages, then taken up positions around the Rolls. Inside I saw Tark, with a pressure bandage covering a hole in the left side of his chest. He gave me a brave smile, but looked awfully pale as he used the mobile phone.