The alley ended, and I was out onto a backstreet. Another skidding turn—left, this time—and I started to slow down. There was silence behind me—no gunfire, no running footsteps. Were Kat and Moko down, or had they just broken off pursuit? If the latter, they—or their friends, come to think of it—could still be tracking in on me, using the hypothetical locator that had led them to me in the first place. Frag, I had to ditch that thing fast . . . but doing a striptease in the middle of the street probably wasn't tactically sound, for various obvious reasons.