An hour later they took their turns having dinner in a cafeteria on Pleasance Street. The sky was dark when they started rolling again. The September chill was in the air. Routine calls rolled out of the radio, none for their car, and Leland began to feel his legs numbing. There was no conversation now, and with his elbow on the windowsill, he watched the passing stores. On Palmetto Avenue, a business street on a slight hill, Leland thought he saw something in an auto supply store. There was one car on the block, at the corner in front of the store.

“Pull over,” he said.

Krolevich did. “Come on,” he said, setting the hand brake. They walked back to the car. Leland put his hand on the hood.

“It’s hot.”

Krolevich looked around. There were no places the driver could have gone to which he could not have parked closer. Krolevich unbuttoned his holster, then hesitated.

“Joe, go around the side. Keep low as you pass the windows and the displays will cover you. Identify yourself loud and clear. We’ll flush them in this direction.”

Leland nodded. His mouth had gone dry. He unbuttoned his own holster, got below the window displays, and moved to the corner. He looked back to Krolevich, waiting near the wall. Krolevich gave him a wave. Leland turned the corner. A little distance up the hill the wall ended, and ten feet beyond was a wire fence. There was no light between, and instinctively Leland wanted to draw his gun. He had only thought he had seen something, and he had to wish that the car hood had not been hot, or the car had not been there at all. He stood still and listened. Nothing. He drew his gun and disengaged the safety. He tried to put his feet down lightly. At the end of the wall he peered around. Garbage. Litter. Crates. The crates were piled head-high, and as his eyes adjusted he saw a passage between them to a little stairway down, and then a door to the back of the store. There was nothing to see inside the small panes of window. Leland picked his way along.

Something crashed inside the store, there was a shout, and Leland was about to alert Krolevich when the door before him flew open. A man stood there, staring, then tried to shut the door. There was another shout inside, an explosion, and falling glass. “Carl!” Leland cried. The door opened again as Leland started moving toward it, and this time the man raised a pistol. His eyes glazed with fear, he fired.