Knife-Edge didn’t seem to be watching for tails. Since leaving the bar, Falcon hadn’t seen him glance over his shoulder once, and the angles were wrong for the runner to use store windows and other tricks. After thinking about it for a moment, he changed his tactics, closing the distance until he was only about a half-block behind his quarry. At that range, it probably didn’t matter that he wasn’t sheltering behind pedestrians. If Knife-Edge ever did glance back, what were the chances he’d recognize one face in the crowd at a distance of fifty meters? Not good, he figured. On the other hand, Knife-Edge’s size and his distinctive gait—thanks to the unknown sniper—made it unlikely that Falcon would lose sight of him.