The Grey Suits started descending the escalator towards them, their steps unnervingly synchronized. They weren't running; they were closing the gap with cold, professional efficiency.
"Evasive maneuvers, Mr. James," Mei reiterated, her hand hovering over a hidden compartment in her sleeve.
"Right," James muttered, his mind going blank. He looked at the descending men, then at the stationary woman beside him. He needed chaos. He needed... tea accessories.
He fumbled in his satchel and pulled out the heirloom porcelain teacup—the fragile, white-and-gold one he treasured.
"A gift!" he shouted up to the approaching agents in the only universally understandable language: panicked tourism. "I've bought a gift for my dear Aunt Mildred! And look! It's so precious, it requires six boxes of Chinese instant noodles to protect it!"
He then promptly tripped himself, seemingly in an effort to show off the cup. He didn't drop the cup, but he did manage to send three stacks of instant noodle boxes he'd hastily grabbed from a nearby display tumbling down the escalator.
The boxes cascaded down the metal steps, creating a disastrous, sliding obstacle course. The Grey Suits, professional as they were, couldn't stop the avalanche of chicken-flavored instant ramen. The lead agent slipped, then tumbled, taking his two colleagues down with him in a tangle of limbs and cheap carbohydrates.
Mei stared at the scene, her mouth agape for a split second.
"Told you it was an interesting fighting style," she mumbled, then yanked James off the escalator before the Grey Suits could detangle themselves. "Incredible. They were paralyzed by the sheer administrative nightmare of the noodle mess."
They burst out onto a busy street, right next to a public bus stop. Mei threw a handful of crumpled Yuan bills onto the seat of a waiting taxi, but instead of getting in, she pointed James toward a brightly painted public bus.
"The taxi is compromised. Get on the Bus 908," she commanded, pushing him onto the crowded vehicle.
The moment James stepped onto the bus, he felt utterly overwhelmed. It was packed elbow-to-elbow, mostly with elderly residents carrying large bags of groceries.
"This is 'low profile'?" James questioned, squeezed between a woman with a live duck in a cage and a man holding a gigantic bonsai tree.
"It is untraceable," Mei said, standing with unnerving serenity despite the crush. "No one expects a high-value target to be stuck in a Chinese traffic jam, complaining about personal space."