The twin-turbo V8 engine let out a low, bass-heavy rumble that bounced off the polished stone walls of the Zenith residential pavilion as the charcoal-gray Audi RS 6 Avant cleared the security gates. It was Tuesday morning. The air coming through the cracked window was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth mixed with the distant, faint roar of morning traffic from the city's financial center.
Jake sat back in the passenger seat, tapping his thumb against his knee. The four-minute blackout from yesterday had left a dull ache behind his eyes, but the Nimodipine capsule he'd taken at dawn was finally working. The throbbing pressure behind his left temple had settled down into a quiet, manageable numbness.
