The crunch of tyres get my attention. A groundcar rolls in. I step back, further into the shadows of the shipping containers as its headlights rake the area. Blacked out. Midrange. Toyota. These guys aren't high level enough to afford the good stuff out of the European Interstellar Coalition. Mercedes, Audi, BMW? Way out of their league

I watch as three people get out. I know it's the guys I'm looking for because one of them is built like the side of a battleship. A synth chassis. No normal person gets that big. No matter how much time they spend in the gym. He's got his hair in a mohawk. Bright orange. Real subtle. I narrow my eyes, cycling my optic zoom in close. Just to be sure. The big one goes by the name of Jason Montreta. He's an enforcer. Real nasty character. APD's tried linking him to whole bunch of messy crimes all over the city. Never managed to pin anything on him though. Same goes for his two pals. They're a whole lot smaller, but no less dangerous. My data overlay lists them as John Rousseau and Vincenzo Lucio. Rousseau's the suspected button man on a series of hits not too long ago up in the Moorland Heights. Lucio's suspected of the assassination of a big time Triad lieutenant in Chinatown last month. Blew the guy's car up right in the middle of the street. Broad daylight. Somehow no-one knows a thing about it. Or so they say. I watch as the three approach a warehouse and Rousseau touches his knuckle to a strip next to the door. Biometric ID. Wouldn't have worked for Montreta. His body's just a metal shell. Nothing organic in there except his brain and spinal column. Once the three of them are inside, I wait a couple of minutes more to be sure no-one else is coming. Once I'm satisfied they're alone. I stub out my cigarette and get moving. There's an access ladder on the left wall of the warehouse. Ground level doors these days are mainly used for vehicle access and personnel. Now warehouses have big panels on the roof that slide back. Lets the sky cranes have easier access when they load and unload ships. That's my way in. Once I'm up there, I step as quietly as I can until I'm in the perfect position. The panels are metal, obviously, so I can't see what's going on inside, but I can hear machinery moving around. I need to get in there. Fortunately, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. From an inside pocket of my jacket I bring out a small black disk and twist the top and bottom. There's a soft click as I place it on one of the panels. I step back and cover my ears. A few seconds later, there's a boom and a large hole appears. Smoke curling from the smoldering edges. I draw my pistol and drop through.