The Crown Vic had been 'heavily customized' -- a choice of words that had
been a source of great amusement among those who had labored for a week to pack
the trunk and every concealable cubic inch of the car with plastic explosive.
Every little bump in the road bottomed-out the shocks and springs, and
despite what he'd been told about his load being detonated only by radio, Ahmed
flinched hard at every jolt and swore viciously at the other cars around him.
A red, hard plastic suitcase shifted slightly on the seat next to him. Ahmed
reached to push it back in place and briefly cursed the fool who'd perched it
there, although no wires showed and there was no chance the case would fall.
At a red light one block from his goal, Ahmed wiped his face on his sleeves
and repeated part of his last prayer -- the part for himself -- one more time as
he twisted his grip on the steering wheel.
Clusters of people hurried across the street, some in various costumes he
recognized. Spiderman led Wonder Woman at a laughing dash to the shelter of an
awning, where they were joined by Lara Croft, a tall, furry creature, and a
couple of white-armored stormtroopers.
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