Gojaro placed two fingers beside the thumbprint in the gate grease. Heat remained in the metal around it.
The right hand had pulled the gate closed while its owner looked over one shoulder. Rainwater covered only the outer edge, putting them inside during the last few minutes.
Gojaro tested the handle with his sleeve around his hand. A service chain caught behind the gate after half an inch.
His radio clicked against his collar.
"Rosa, tell me why that plate is walking toward you."
"The rooftop carrier brought it into the crosswalk with the punched corner forward, and he keeps turning whenever I move."
Gojaro leaned far enough from the service awning to see the west intersection. The altered body stood beneath a dead traffic light with the stolen placard held at chest height. It could have kept the brick wall between itself and Rosa. It had chosen the crosswalk and a clean line to her fire.
"Leave the offered plate where it is because somebody wants your hands occupied."
