This time, both of Morgan's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise at Eleanor's sudden intimacy with their client. With a glance around, she turned her attention to Holt, feeling the shape and weight of their client's mind against her senses. No surprise, at least at first. The woman was alarmed, chagrined, panicked, and confused. Then, all at once, those parts of Holt that had been feeding back on one another, building toward toward panic slackened and folded back into Holt's mind, shepherded with a deft and gentle touch. Something else rose to fill the sudden emotional void, a flickering feeling somewhere between orgasmic afterglow and calm contentment. 

Tragellan pulled away, and Morgan turned to watch her. Holt hadn't chosen what had just happened to her, she was all but certain. She was familiar with the sensations that came from the abrogation of free will, familiar with them in a way that sometimes kept her up at night. She had no doubt that Tragellan would be subtle and leave the smallest trace she could, but...well. That kind of thing wasn't healthy. There were some kinds of seduction that had no externalities at all.

Adding that to the growing list of things she would need to talk to Tragellan about, Morgan let her awareness drift away from her, feeling the gazes of the other passengers and the sharper, more directed attention of the people - virtually all of them men - in uniform. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, tried to make sense of the riot of humanity around her. There was something peculiar about the attention that she couldn't quite identify, and that fact alone made Morgan's blood run cold. She took another breath, relaxed her awareness of the world around her. There was more than just a lone killer, that much had been clear for some time. Whoever these people were, they were organized, and that was by far the more alarming truth.

Morgan's fingers tightened around the hard plastic carry handle of her own pistol case, still locked at her side. At her gesture, she followed Tragellan toward the parking garage, steps long and sure, trying to watch the world around her without giving that fact away. To both sides she saw people dressed in TSA uniforms move closer, their gazes no longer casual, their body langauge growing more tense with every step the Group took. She looked up - no helicopters, thank goodness. Whoever these people were, they wouldn't have to worry about being followed from the air - at least by conventional means. 

A measure of relief flooded through her chest, washing away a measure of her growing tension when Manny pulled open the doors of a pair of gleaming SUVs. She had to give the young man credit, there were times when he pulled through in a profound way. These were even models she'd not only driven, but trained on with the Bureau. She opened her mouth to voice her relief, but her train of thought shifted tracks at the sound of an engine roaring and getting closer. No time. Manny would probably forgive a certain amount of brusqueness, though it might cost a beer later.

"Over here, Manny," Morgan said, raising her hand to catch the keys he tossed over, "Eleanor's right, we have to assume that whoever this is knows everything we arranged for." She made a frustrated noise, rubbed her eyes for a moment, then looked back at the Group. There would be questions, and she didn't know how she'd answer them, but that was a problem for the future.

"All right, all right. I...know somewhere we can go." She blew out a quick breath and pointed, "Malone, Leon, you're with me. Get Holt into our car and belted in; we'll be in the lead. Manny, get Eleanor and Kennedy and be ready for...whatever these people are going to try. I don't think they're going t..." her voice trailed off, "Oh, bollocks."

Morgan pointed at the van that had roared up onto the pedestrian crosswalk, the door already rolling aside. A man in TSA uniform pointed toward the Group, and the mountain-sized men from the van started pounding the asphalt, hurtling toward the SUVs like the judgement of an angry god. Morgan pulled her cell phone out, pressed Manny's speed-dial, and jabbed the speakerphone button before putting the phone back in her jacket pocket. 

"Manny, answer that and leave your speaker on, we'll need to talk. Malone, shotgun, if you don't mind." She smirked despite herself and the onrushing tide of unwelcome attention, turning back to Manny, "And do try to keep up."

She stepped up into the truck, tossing her pistol case to Malone with a flick of her wrist. With her other hand, she twisted the key even before she settled into the driver's seat. The SUV came to life with a reassuring thrum, and Morgan pulled the door shut behind her. She grabbed the gear lever, yanked on it, and pressed her foot to the accelerator hard enough to make all four wheels spin until the computer caught up.

In the same moment, she clicked her seat belt into place, and her face took on an expression of intense concentration.

Morgan cleared her throat, "You'll probably want to hold on to something."

The truck, wheels finding traction at last, launched away from the parking lot with all the power Morgan cared to muster out of the bellowing engine. In an instant, black-clad bruisers scattered from the steel behemoth like bowling pins, diving to each side. Morgan didn't slow down or change direction, one of the men avoiding the wheels only by leaping to one side. She put on even more speed and the truck bounced over the line of curbstones at the parking lot's edge with a teeth-rattling bounce.

In the rearviw mirror, Morgan saw the other SUV start to move, the bruisers just now starting to scramble to their feet and away from the path of Manny's truck. No time for triumph, though - Morgan saw someone shove open the van's driver's door and stand on the running board. They were tall, almost skeletally thin, a long and ragged coat fluttering around them. Morgan couldn't see the figure's eyes, but she felt his attention, almost like a lance of will scraping across her awareness. Then she saw the figure turn, point at the other vehicle, and flickering, blue-white nimbus surrounded their outstretched arm.

"Manny!" Morgan yelled, hoping the man had kept his cell phone on, "The driver, look out!"