The gray Brix suitcase was next to Caldwell’s left leg, sandwiched between him and the same old couple he had opened the elevator doors for earlier. The old man had a glassy look, while the old lady appeared to be as sharp as they came. Her hair was jet black, suggesting some kind of dye job or medical procedure that held gray hairs in check. Caldwell could just about see the tiny touch screen on the suitcase. The green light that indicated that the case was locked onto its owner was blinking. There was a toggle button on the Brix’ touch screen that read: MANUAL. Caldwell prayed that his left hand was not visible from where the biker girl was standing. He pressed the button on the screen gently with minimal movement in his shoulder.

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