It did seem rather ordinary, but maybe that was the tip-off. It was, Frodo quickly realized, a front, as he listened to the sounds pouring through even the closed windows of the car. He drew a quick breath and closed his eyes, and began to prepare himself for the worst. He forced images of his uncle's Elan sawed into pieces, the wheels removed, the roof shredded; he watched them like slides in a presentation. And when he was done with that, he pictured himself getting shot and probably dying, and for a fraction of a second he wondered if it was worth it.
It's just a car...
But it wasn't. Not to him. If only Isabella and Alice hadn't gotten involved. Without their added weight upon his shoulders, he likely would already be marching for the garage door. Quite fearlessly. And he sort of liked the thought of that.
Frodo opened his eyes. He took another breath.
He pulled a .22-caliber 10-round Smith & Wesson from his back pocket.