Hammer and West were on their feet and running out the door to the Greyhound bus terminal next door. David One units were responding, but it seemed not one car was within blocks. This baffled Hammer as she ran with some difficulty in high-heeled Ferragamos. West was slightly behind her. They sped around the station to a lane on the side where a forty-seven-passenger bus filled to capacity was idling, with doors open wide.

“We’ll get on pretending to be passengers,” West whispered as they slowed their pace.

Hammer nodded, knowing exactly how this would go down. “I’ll go first,” she said.

This was not quite what West had in mind, but the last thing she intended to do now or ever was imply that Hammer had forgotten how to be a cop. Hammer’s black pumps were loud on metal steps as she smiled, climbing aboard, oblivious and on her way somewhere. People were terrorized in their seats as the sinister young white male made his way down the aisle, collecting wallets, cash, jewelry, and dropping them in a plastic trash bag.

“Excuse me,” Hammer politely said to anyone listening.

Magic the Man whipped around and fixed on the fine lady in her fine black suit as she spotted his gun. Her smile faded and she froze, as did another lady right behind her. This was getting better. These bitches looked rich.

“Is this the bus for Kannapolis?” the older bitch in black stammered.

“This is the bus for you giving me your money.” Magic jabbed the .22 pistol her way.

“Yes sir. I don’t want a problem,” the lady in black said.

Magic thought she seemed confused, as if she might pass out or pee in her pants. She shakily moved closer to him, as she rooted around in her big black leather pocketbook. Magic might just take that too, for his mama. Maybe those bad black shoes, too. Wonder what size they were? He found out as much as he would ever need to know about those shoes when the bitch suddenly kicked him so hard in the shin with a knife-pointed toe that he bit his tongue. She suddenly had a big pistol out and was poking it against his head as his gun instantly vanished from behind, and then he was facedown in the aisle, and the other bitch was jerking his wrists together and wrapping them tight with a flex cuff.

“Man, oh man. That’s too tight,” Magic said as his shin throbbed. “I think my leg’s broke.”

Innocent passengers on the bus stared slack-jawed, in speechless wonder as the two well-dressed ladies led that son-of-a-bitch murderer off into the bright afternoon. Police cars were suddenly roaring up, blue and red lights whirling, and all on the bus knew the ladies somehow had made that happen, too.

“Thank you Jesus,” someone thought to say.

“Lord be praised.”

“It’s a miracle.”

“Batman and Robin.”

“Hand that bag over here so I can get my gold chain back.”