The street bustles with tourist activity, six hours or so behind where we just left. The night is still young, fresh. But I haven't forgotten Sage's internal clock. It has no use for time zones. We may have gained a few hours, but he's still on day four with time running short.

"Now what?" Sage looks up and down the street, turning sideways to block me from a group of teenagers. "We've lost all our stuff."

Our carryons are gone, ...