Out of the corner of his eye, Frodo watched Alice cut ribbons in the air with her knife. He'd always been easily distracted by peripheral movement. When Keamy reappeared at the opposite corner of the opposite eye, his head turned sharply.
"Ready with the money?" he asked.
Frodo's hand was already in his pocket. He flashed the edge of a neat bundle of bills. "It's there? They have it?" he whispered.
Keamy smiled. "I mean, it's blue now."
Frodo wasted a few seconds picturing this. And then decided to spend a few more turning back to Isabella, "I'm not sure who'd be protecting who, but do I have any say in whether or not you come inside? Either of you?"
In the midst of their answer, Keamy took Frodo by the collar of his coat and gave it a good yank. He barely had enough time to tuck his handgun into the back of his pants before he was inside. The floor of the garage was littered with harvested car parts, unexpectedly organized according to their functions: all the engines were in one area, the wheels in another; there were piles of wires and layers of windshields. It was a cavernous facility, large enough to allow for three lifts, two of which were in use, holding what seemed to be a pair of matching red Ferraris high above their heads. But Frodo's eyes immediately fell upon a small, unassuming and outdated blue convertible.