Jason looked the girl over, from cute face and red hair down to her well-formed rump and long, long legs. Lately, it seemed that every woman he met in the shadows was some kind of whore. And this one belonged to the mob.<br/><br/>The car issue was a bit of a nuisance, but at least he now knew that it was hers, and probably wouldn’t be missed by a third party. Of course, if she failed to make delivery her mob superiors would likely inquire into the matter.<br/><br/>It was hard to tell just how secure the security mechanism on the suitcase was from the outside. These things rarely advertised their true ratings. Either they were cheap things but built to look far more secure than they were…or it was the other way around. Of course he could send it in for analysis and cracking to some tech specialist loyal to Interfreight, but he hadn’t received a list of authorized contacts yet and he really didn’t want to contact his new employer more than absolutely necessary while the run was still in process. Besides, shipping a suitcase might fly under the radar, sending a pretty, unconscious girl along was likely to make tongues wag.<br/><br/>Until his security codes had been used to full effect, he wanted to keep as low a profile as possible. Why the hell he was knee-deep in mob business was a legitimate question given the situation, but, well, curiosity might kill the cat…but it really had no choice in the matter. A black mystery suitcase was to Jason what a laser pointer dot was to a cat.<br/><br/>He didn’t feel like negotiating with the mob and the goons he had tasered might have some hard feelings, so there was but one path left to him: Open pandora’s box. He went out and got himself a cheap tinfoil tent that he set up over his working table AND the sleeping girl. Together with the jammer, it would hopefully be enough to suppress any tracking signal the suitcase might emit once he started tampering with it.<br/><br/>“No time like the present.” Jason said to no one in particular and interfaced with the suitcase lock.<br/>