The garage was shadows and cold concrete, smelling heavily of motor oil and old dust. The grey sedan sat in the center of the space, its engine ticking quietly as it cooled down from the reckless, high-speed escape through the city streets.
Stiles approached the vehicle with extreme caution, her newly bandaged shoulder throbbing to the rhythm of her heartbeat. She knew the rules of the game all too well: if their opponents had managed to track them from the airport straight to the church, it wasn't just luck. The vehicle arranged by their contact was either a homing beacon or holding something they desperately wanted.
Keeping her ears open for any sound from the street outside, Stiles began a meticulous sweep of the car.
She started with the exterior, dropping to her knees despite the burning ache in her upper body. She ran her uninjured hand along the inside of the wheel wells, feeling past the brake lines and checking the chassis. Nothing. She checked under the front bumper and beneath the rear exhaust pipe.
Then, she popped the bonnet. She scanned the engine block, tracing the wiring harnesses to ensure no aftermarket relays or magnetic tracking modules had been spliced into the battery terminal. Everything looked standard, factory-issue.
That left the interior.
Stiles slipped into the driver's seat, closing the door softly to muffle the sound. She ignored the ignition and went straight to work on the cabin. She pulled up the floor mats, checked beneath the seats, and ran her fingers along the seams of the leather upholstery. Finally, she opened the glove compartment, emptying out the standard registration papers, and reached her hand deep into the dark recess behind the plastic housing.
Her fingers brushed against something metallic.
It wasn't a tracker. It was a heavy, magnetic lockbox tucked deep beneath the dashboard frame, completely hidden from casual inspection.
Her breath hitched. This was part of the last mission—the real reason their contact had gone to such lengths to provide this specific car. With a sharp tug, the magnets gave way, and Stiles pulled the black box into the dim light of the cabin.