Back when I was with Lone Star, I’d had my left ear replaced with a cybernetic prosthesis. The police radio it contained was no longer useful—the Star changed the encryption on its signal every month and I had yet to find a cybertronics technician wiz enough to crack the code and get my receiver back on-line. But the ear’s frequency-extension units were still functional, as were its amplification system and noise filters. It took a few seconds of concentration to tune out the pounding of the rain and a couple more to cycle through the range of frequencies. But after that I was satisfied. There was nothing moving—nothing breathing even—inside the Mitsubishi runabout.