Dumas nodded in agreement when Chester mentioned the camera.  But it had been hard enough to fit a tracker with decent range into that rabbit charm.  They’d just have to settle for whatever information Chester could gather.<br/><br/>Then Dumas noticed a man emerge from the building.  Although he was trying to appear nonchalant, little details gave him away to a soldier’s trained eyes.  His posture was too rigid, he glanced around too frequently for someone supposedly reading a newspaper, and more than once his hand twitched toward the gun concealed in his pocket.  If he wasn’t hired muscle for the cards, Dumas would kiss White.  With tongue.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Do you think we should deal with him?</span><br/><br/>Despite Dumas’s impulse to go down in in blaze of glory, old instincts began taking over.  He’d spent so many years fighting for survival -- he couldn’t just turn his back on it now.  Besides, there was Chester to consider.  Even though they weren’t inside the club, and Chester was probably perfectly capable of defending himself, Dumas still considered the magician to be under his protection.  He couldn’t justify leading him into a death trap.<br/><br/>“If we go inside that building, we’re finished,” Dumas conceded.  “So let’s see if we can’t make them come out to us.  Preferably, a few at a time.”<br/><br/>Casting a quick glance at their surroundings, Dumas assessed the situation.  This area wasn’t nearly as deserted as the abandoned train station had been.  So they’d have to play by different rules.  “Ches?  I’m going to need a distraction.  Keep the civilians busy with something.”<br/><br/>Without looking back, Dumas started toward the bakery.  He trusted Chester to hold up his end of the plan.  After all, creating distractions was pretty much what the magician did for a living.