There was a split second in which Fury debated whether or not he would actually be caught dead in a Mini and, more importantly, whether he could fit in one. Right now it didn't really matter one way or another because he had no choice with their prey escaping and this being the closest ride. With an effort he tucked his large frame into the passenger seat and dutifully reached back for the GPS.
He knew Morse didn't need directions; probably she'd installed a tracker and, sure enough, when he put the thing in the correct mode the display blinked with two dots on a map of Brussels. Nick positioned the device on the dashboard and awkwardly sat back, his knees pulled up just a little too high for him to actually be comfortable. How they were going to conduct any high speed chases in this bitch was completely beyond him. This was not spy style.
"I had him," grumbled eventually, the source of his annoyance and criticisms. "I had him," Nick repeated. "And you stopped me."