“Sort of like a button or something.”
She pulled the coat over onto her lap, started rifling through the pockets, and came out with a small silver disc. “This?” she said.
I went back onto the phone. “We found it, Trevor.”
“What is this?” Angie asked.
“It’s a tracking thing,” I told her. “Trevor put it in your pocket, that’s how he’s been following you all over town, showing up where you least expected him.”
Even slightly out of it, Angie went red with anger. “Is that him on the phone? Give it to me. I want to talk to him.”
“Later, hon,” I said.
At the other end of the line, Trevor said, “She sounds a bit pissed.”
“Trevor, what can you see from where you are?”
“Huh? Uh, like I say, I’m just in the bushes, looking at the house. I’ve got Morpheus with me.”
“Where’s your car?”
“It’s about six blocks back. I didn’t want anyone to see it, so I walked down, but I’ve got my laptop with me.”
“Jeez, I think I’m dying,” Pockmark said. I had a look at him. He didn’t look to me like he was dying, but there was no question he needed some medical attention.
“Shut up,” Bullock said. “If you’d frisked him better, we wouldn’t be in this mess now. Wait’ll I tell Mr. Indigo.”
“I can’t wait to hear that myself,” Pockmark said. “How you gonna explain all this?”
“What’s going on?” Trevor said.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just some other people in the room here havin’ a chat. We need a ride out of here, Trevor, but we don’t have time for you to run back to your Chevy. Also, there’s another man outside or around the garage somewhere, and he isn’t going to want us to leave.”
“I saw a guy a minute ago. I think he’d just dumped something into the back of the SUV.”
Trimble’s body, I figured.
“And then he went back into the garage.”
I thought for a moment. If we could get Blondie back out of the garage, then Trevor could go in, open the door, get the Virtue running and out into the driveway, and all Angie and I had to do was run out, hop in, and go.
“Hang on, Trevor, okay?”
“Yeah.”
To Bullock, I said, “You can talk to the garage with that thing there, right?” I pointed to the intercom. He nodded. “Tell your guy to come on back here.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I take a shot at Wonder Woman Barbie.”
He didn’t have to think long about that. He pressed the button, shouted, “Hey!” He waited a second for a response, tried again. “Hey, are you—”
“Hello?”
“Take your finger off the button!”
“Hello? Go ahead!”
“Fuck,” Bullock said under his breath, waited a beat, then pressed the button again. “Are you there?”
“Yup.”
“You get that job done?”
“Yeah. Stevie’s loaded up and ready to go. We can take a drive, unload him somewhere. I know where there’s a wood chipper. You want to do the others at the same time?”
I had a chill, knowing now what was in store for us.
“First thing I need you to do is come back here. It’s these others we have to deal with.”
“Yeah, sure, just be a sec.”
“You,” I said to Pockmark. I wanted him out of the chair. If he stayed there, he’d be visible the moment Blondie opened the door. He forced himself out of the chair, dragged his leg to the other side of the room, and sat down on the floor. I motioned for Angie to get off the couch, and handed her the gun I’d taken from Pockmark.
“Think you can manage this?” I said to her. “I want you to keep it on Mr. Barbie here.”
She nodded. Tiredly, but she was more awake every minute.
I spoke into the cell. “Trevor, you there?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“Has that guy left the garage yet?”
“No.”
“The moment he walks out and heads for the house, you let me know.”
“Okay. Nothing yet. Maybe he’s— Hang on, the side door’s opening up. He’s coming out! He’s going into the house.”
“Is he holding a gun?”
“Uh, I don’t, I don’t think so!”
I figured it wouldn’t take him any more than ten or fifteen seconds to get from the house door to the room we were in now. I positioned myself against the wall, by the doorframe. I could hear Blondie’s steps coming down the hall, stop, then the knob turned and the door began to open.
“I was—” he started to say, but then he felt the cold ring of metal against his temple.
“Don’t move,” I said.
“No problem,” he said.
“Come in very slowly.”
He quickly took in the scene, assessed it. His partner on the floor, bleeding. Bullock not moving, standing behind a very damp desk. Angie standing on the other side of the door, her gun trained on Bullock.
“Nice frisking job,” Bullock said to him.
“Where’s your gun?” I asked.
“Tucked into the back of my pants,” he said. I looked around, saw it, couldn’t help but think that he had a butt sticking out of his butt. Funny how the mind works.
I moved slightly behind him, keeping the gun close to his head, then took the gun from the back of his pants with my left hand. Now that I’d given Pockmark’s weapon to Angie, I could slip this new one into my now empty left pocket.
“Now step into the room and lie facedown on the floor,” I said.
Blondie did as he was asked.
I got back on the phone. “Trevor, go into the garage.”
“Gotcha.”
I could hear him running across the property, then the sound of a door opening and closing.
“See my car?”
“Yeah. Shit, it’s all in pieces.”
“It’s mostly the inside door panels. Don’t worry about that. See if the keys are in it.”
“Hang on, yeah, they’re here.”
“See if it’ll start.”
I listened. The Virtue was so quiet, I wasn’t sure I’d hear it come on even if it did. “No, it won’t.”
I could hear my heart pounding in my temples. “Turn the key ahead, move the shifter back and forth a couple times, try it again.”
I heard some noise in the background. “Okay, it’s on. You’re a genius.”
I let out a breath. “Just leave it running. There should be a button somewhere that opens that middle garage door.”
“Just a minute. Okay, yeah, I think this is it. Yep, the garage door is going up.”
“I want you to back the Virtue out, get it turned around in the driveway, leave the engine running. Leave the driver’s door open, you get in the back. Have the back door open that faces the house. When I come out, I’m going to put Angie in the back with you so you can look after her. She’s a bit woozy.”
“You don’t want me to drive?”
“I’ll drive. Can you do everything I’ve asked?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll leave my phone on but put it in my pocket for a sec. Stay on the line.”
“Okay.” To Angie, I said, “We’re leaving, honey. We’re getting out of here in just a few seconds.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said. “Did I hear right, is Trevor out there?”
“Yeah.”
“That little weasel, putting that fucking thing in my coat.”
“Why don’t we get angry with him about it later, after he saves our lives?”
“I suppose.” She grabbed her coat, slinging it over her arm so she could still keep the gun on Bullock.
“Mr. Walker?”
I held the phone back up to my ear. “Yeah.”
“I’m all set to go here. Run out, hop in the driver’s seat, and we’re off.”
“Good man,” I said. “We’ll be right out.” I slipped the phone into my
jacket. “We’re going to be on our way, guys.” I pointed to Pockmark, the dark stain on his trousers getting even larger. “I think you should see about getting this one to a doctor.”
I motioned Angie toward the door. “You go first,” I said. “Get in the car.”
She slid by me and out the door. I heard her run down the hall, through the kitchen, then a door open and close.
“Get under the desk,” I said to Bullock. He scrunched down and got under. Then I told Blondie to do the same. He had some difficulty jamming himself under there with his boss.
Then I ran.
I was out the house door in a second. The Virtue was sitting there, right where it was supposed to be, Trevor and Angie in the back, plus Morpheus, jumping around the backseat and into the front. The driver’s door was left open, and I hopped in, threw the car into drive, and pressed the accelerator, knocking Morpheus, who was without doubt one of the ugliest dogs I’d ever seen, off his feet and into the back of the front bucket. The car jerked to a start, and we were flying down the sloped driveway so quickly the car’s front underpan slammed into the street as we turned onto it.
I caught a glimpse of Trevor, the strap of his laptop case looped over his shoulder, in my mirror and saw that he was turned around, looking behind us.
“They’re coming!” he said. “Two of them! They’re running to the SUV!”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Angie said as I swerved to avoid hitting a station wagon I’d just cut off.
“It’s okay,” Trevor said to her softly. “It’s going to be okay.” Morpheus bounded into the backseat and licked Trevor in the face.
We were nearing the end of Wyndham, and in my mirror I saw headlights sweeping down to the end of the Bullock house driveway. The Annihilator burst into view, straightened, started coming after us like the enormous beast it was.
I glanced back. Angie looked pale. “I really need some air,” she said. “I gotta put down a window or I’m gonna be sick. Oh crap, there’s no buttons or anything to put the window down.”
It was true. When they’d taken the inside door panels off to search for drugs, they’d removed the power window controls. But there was still a button on the dash for the sunroof, and I opened it. “How’s that?” I asked.
“Better,” she said.
“Trevor,” I said. “Call 911.”
“Yeah.” He had his phone out and was about to punch in the numbers when I hung a hard right at an intersection, tossing my passengers—human and canine—about. “You might try to get your seat belts on if you get a chance,” I advised.
“Here,” Trevor said to Angie, “I’ll get yours.” And he leaned across, grabbed the belt from above her shoulder, and secured it. Then he did his own. “I’m calling them now,” he said. Morpheus was in Angie’s lap now, looking like maybe he was going to have a nap.
I didn’t have a destination in mind. I just wanted to get away.
The Annihilator cut that last corner short, riding up over one curb and down another. As far back as it was, I could still hear its engine roar with the Virtue sunroof open.
Trevor, craning his head around every few seconds, said, “They’re gaining.”
I leaned on the gas, but the hybrid didn’t take off the way I might have hoped. The SUV was closing the distance.
“Is this the police?” Trevor said into his phone. “We’re being chased by some people who want to kill us! Uh, we’re in a silver Virtue, going north on—” He looked around. “Where are we?” he shouted.
I wasn’t sure. I knew about as much as Trevor did, that we were heading north.
“I’m not sure. But look for a silver car being chased by a black SUV. There’s two men in it and they’re—”
We were hit from behind. The Annihilator, its shoulder-high headlamps filling the Virtue with light, had nudged the back bumper. Morpheus sprung up from his short nap, put his paws on the back window ledge, and began barking and slobbering. I swung the wheel to the right, then the left, crossing the middle lane and then back again. At least this time they weren’t shooting at us. I’d taken guns off both of Bullock’s men and—
And then they were shooting at us.
“He’s got a gun!” Trevor shouted. “Like a machine gun or something!”
“Get down!” I shouted, and Trevor threw his arm around Angie and forced her head below the bottom of the rear window.
“It’s going to be okay,” he told her again. “I’m going to take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”
There were more shots, a pop-pop-pop-pop. All our windows were still intact, but I thought I’d heard at least one bullet strike the trunk or back bumper.
I rounded a corner, the tires shifting and slipping on some streetcar tracks. Up ahead, a late-night streetcar taking people home after the bars had closed was rolling along. I swung out to the left, passing it in the opposite lane. I glanced in my mirror and the Annhilator was gone, but once I’d passed the streetcar, it appeared on my right side. It had passed the streetcar on the inside and was now getting ready to ram us from the side.
I hit the brakes. The Annihilator, as big and as heavy as it was, couldn’t stop in as short a distance. I turned left down a narrow residential street. In seconds, I saw the headlights behind me again. I zigzagged my way through the neighborhood’s streets, a right, another right, a left, a right. I’d completely lost my bearings, but I hadn’t lost the Annihilator.
The thing was, my car was no match for it, not unless Bullock and Blondie ran out of gas. Driving the vehicle that got better mileage didn’t count for much at the moment. It wasn’t like I could take this chase off the streets. Off-road I’d have even less chance of getting away from that four-wheel-drive monster.
Ahead, I saw some familiar buildings. I was starting to get my bearings. We were coming up on Mackenzie University and its historic, grand structures.
I blasted past the gate, where you picked up your parking ticket when entering the grounds. The university streets were nearly deserted, hardly any cars parked along the lanes, no students walking around.
The Annihilator came in after me, barreling like a locomotive.
Angie raised her head enough to see where we were.
“Get back down,” Trevor said.
“Wait,” Angie said, looking around. “Dad, I’ve got an idea.”
“Me too,” I said, my hands wet with sweat as I gripped the wheel.
It was going to be tricky, that was for sure. But for all the car’s faults, its steering was tight and precise.
I slowed a bit, let the Annihilator gain on us. It only took a second. The SUV’s massive grill loomed over our trunk, its lights like fire, its engine roaring as if it were about to devour us.
Morpheus barked incessantly.
I sped through the grounds, looking for Galloway Hall. There it was, up ahead. And there, around the building’s far side, Angie’s shortcut. The pedestrian pathway.
I waited until the last possible second, then cranked the wheel hard to the right, gripping it with both hands, and aimed the car for the center of the opening, this low-ceilinged pathway that Angie used to sneak out of Mackenzie without paying for her parking.
The Annihilator was no more than a couple of feet behind us.
We’d only been in the tunnel a thousandth of a second when we heard it. An ear-splitting noise. Metal meeting brick. Glass shattering. Sheet metal tearing.
I’d have looked back, but I had to keep my eyes straight ahead to make sure neither fender caught the brick walls. But I was able to catch a glimpse of the fireball in the rearview mirror. I didn’t slow down. I didn’t know how much of the Annihilator might be left to follow us in.
As it turned out, what was left of the truck only went about thirty or forty feet, but I couldn’t bring myself to let up on the gas until we were out the other end. Only then did I stop the car, a couple of feet shy of the chain that kept us from driving out onto Edwards Street.
I unbuckled and, al
ong with Angie and Trevor and Morpheus, got out of the Virtue and looked back.
The brick archway had caught the Annihilator at the base of the windshield. Bullock and Blondie would have been thrown forward from the force of the collision, but only in the instant before the brick archway sliced the entire top of the vehicle, and in all likelihood their heads, clean off.
38
There was a lot of explaining to be done.
Before the cops began with their onslaught of questions, I told them, standing by the Virtue and holding a shaken Angie in my arms, that there were a few things they needed to know about immediately. There was the matter of a tied-up woman in a house out in the suburbs. And the fact that her husband had taken a header off a balcony at the airport Ramada, and that the odds were she didn’t know a thing about it yet.
Also, there was a guy with a bullet in his leg in a house on Wyndham Lane. Assuming he was still there, and hadn’t already hobbled his way down to the closest emergency room.
It was pretty likely they were going to find, in the back of that disintegrated Annihilator, a dead police detective. And further investigation by their forensic folks would show that he hadn’t died in the accident.
And last, but far from least, there was my daughter Angie. She seemed okay, but as I explained to one of the officers, she’d been drugged with something earlier in the evening and should be checked out at a hospital immediately. There were already ambulances at the scene, waiting for the folks from the fire department to see who or what they could recover from the wreckage of the SUV, so a couple of paramedics rushed over to see how she was.
“I’m going to have to answer a whole lot of questions,” I said as they loaded her into the back of the ambulance, an anxious Trevor moving from one foot to another as he cautioned the paramedics to be careful with her. “I’ll give your mother a call, send her to the hospital to wait with you. After they’ve checked you out, made sure you’re okay, the cops are going to have a lot of questions for you, too.”
Angie nodded tiredly and slipped her arms around my neck. “You look nice in your new clothes, Daddy,” she said.
“Thanks, honey.”
“Promise me you’ll have them check that bump on the side of your head?”