|Product dimensions:||6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.64(d)|
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A quintet of bikeroos pedaled past, each one blasting away. Bullets pinged all around him. Civilians were across the street, behind the thugs and close to his line of fire, so he took careful aim. The Eagle screamed twice. A pair of bikeroos jerked from their mounts. Their compatriots kept on going.
Back on his feet, Noah made certain the shooters weren't coming back. He looked over the pigeons he'd plucked. They weren't going anywhere but the morgue.
That's when Marilyn came running up--if you could call what she did in those heels running. She had the sonic stunner she'd been issued in her hand but looked dazed.
"You can put that whistle away," he told her, gesturing toward the two bodies. "Looks like I've made the Blue Scorpions' hit parade."
"The Blue Scorpions? That's the same gang that was involved in the incident where Inspector Budd was killed."
"Yeah," Noah said, holstering his weapon.
"But why?" Marilyn asked, still looking stunned by the whirlwind violence.
"Payback, street cred--who knows. But if they're shooting at you, you know you're doing something right."