From the back of the bus came an annoyed sigh. “These damn wheelchair lifts,” Mr. Business Suit groused. “They take forever and I’m already running late. Can’t they ban these things during rush hour?”
A sudden cracking came from the bus’s steering wheel, where Vic’s hands crushed it in anger. Here’s where that electronic power would be handy again—he’d jerry-rig the lift to fail and then they wouldn’t be able to finish the route before it was fixed. Vic tried to catch Roger’s eye, but the ex-serviceman, who had obviously overheard the remark, busied himself with his fingerless gloves and ignored the world at large. But Vic could see by the muscle bunched in Roger’s jaw how the comment bothered him. Channeling his own anger toward the businessman, Vic again spoke directly into the man’s he
