The Commissioner paced inside Heath Street Station. The next few minutes would make or break his career. 

Outside, members of Boston's Finest waited, their standard-issue police revolvers at the ready. But behind them, armed with Scalamandre automatics, stood a guard of six elite MBTA Transit Police.

A separate organization, sometimes considered a law unto themselves, the Transit Police dealt ruthlessly with fare evaders like these two. 

Things could quickly get out of hand.

The train car approached, slowed, and stopped. The only sound was the click of a dozen safety catches.

But something was wrong. 

Only the driver was visible. The hijackers must have sensed a trap and crouched down.

The driver leaned out his open window. "Do you want me to pull in here, or go down Center Street?"

Twelve officers rushed the train, broke in the doors, and found . . . it was empty!