Korea felt the gun’s cool metal pressing against the waistband of her underwear and decided that, somehow, she really did feel comforted.

This was just like him. Plot a nice easy cruise across the bay in a stolen replica of a Civil War submarine, and he had to find a way to make it complicated. And of course he would time it for when she was stuck with a broken tibia. Now she was going to have to do something drastic.

You said you wanted a submarine, boss, so there you go.

Don’t call me that. And I think you know that this wasn’t quite what I had in mind. First of all, I thought you’d rent one, not have me steal one.

Stealing is more adventurous. Think of the adventure!

Ahead of them the 880 met up with 80, dallied together and pushed into the thick artery leading to the tollbooth barricade of the Bay Bridge. Once Korea had ridden her brother’s bicycle into the Maze, narrowly evading speeders and traffic cops, making for the bridge, only to be stopped by the fascist toll booth operators. “No bikes on the bridge, my ass,” she had said, “this is America.”