The crowbar sluiced the air with the precision of an MQ-9 Reaper.
Thousands of tinkling shards glittered to the ground in a dangerous curtain spread wide by a stiff breeze. Ignoring the frantic squeals and chirps of the vehicle’s alarm system, she reaches into the glove compartment and retrieves a sealed package. She hefts it in her hands then, with the aerial grace of a trained assassin, snaps back and tosses the package to Jacob. A direct, solid throw. He catches the parcel easily and coolly crams it into a hidden compartment in his custom-made shell jacket. She locks eyes with him; they nod and part ways. There will be no witnesses.