"What the frag do we do?" Falcon demanded. He looked around the room. The only door led out into the barroom—into the firefight. At first he’d liked the security that represented; nobody could come in from the street or through some alley door without the bartender spotting them and giving some kind of warning. Now he realized the single door turned the back room into a trap. No way out in an emergency. "Can’t you do something?"