We reached Hollywood in a couple of minutes. Corbin told me how to release the ladder. He also informed me that I was the obvious choice to shinny down.
I shinnied.
Bridget stood in front of her store, staring up in bewildered shock, fists on hips. The propwash swirled street dust and trash around her maroon kaftan.
'What the hell are
up to?' she shouted.
'Time to go!' I shouted back. My feet were planted firmly on the bottom rung. I had a death-grip on the ropes.
'You're a week early!'
'Situations,' I yelled, 'have forced my hand!'
Bridget threw her arms up in exasperation, turning to walk back into her store. I thought I'd lost her until she reappeared carrying a purple paisley carpetbag.
Kasmira followed her to the ladder, where they conferred for a moment. She kissed her grandmother and gave her a firm, long hug. Bridget returned the kiss.
I despise long good-byes, especially when I'm hanging from a stolen assault vehicle. I jumped from the ladder to take the bag from the old crone's hand. She looked at me, then at the ladder dangling above us. She nodded and turned to give Kasmira a final hug.
I hefted her up to the lower rungs. Corbin dropped the copter another foot or so to accommodate her.
Bridget dug her heels into my shoulders for support. With a grunt of effort she climbed up to hook one foot around the bottom rung. I joined her on the ladder and put an arm around her waist. She pried it off.
'I don't need your help, sonny!'
I could tolerate a lot of insults, but that one stung.
She spidered her way up with remarkably unsenile speed. Ann lifted her inside. I reached the top, nearly lost her carpetbag tossing it in, and followed it.
'Haul up the ladder,' Corbin's voice buzzed in my earphones. 'And tell me where we're going.'
'Claremont. The StratoDyne launch site.'
'Ten-four.'
He punched the engines to full throttle, leaving my stomach somewhere on Hollywood Boulevard.
'I still want to know why you came so early,' Bridget said, straining to be heard over the rotor's increased noise.
Isadora recovered from her stupor enough to say, 'It's a psychological problem men his age have. Premature evacuation.'
Bridget turned toward the child with a sardonic smile. 'You're the one, aren't you?' She looked toward Ann for a reply. Ann nodded. The old woman looked back to the kid. 'You are an unbelievably powerful broadcasting telepath, child.' She patted the kid's head tenderly.
I was surprised she didn't bite the old gal's hand off. Instead, she merely looked out the cockpit, saw where we were, and threw up in an empty ammo box.
Bridget took a handkerchief from a pocket in her kaftan and proceeded to clean the child up.
Corbin flew us low over the hills to Sierra Madre, where he doglegged east toward Claremont. Behind us, the smoke from Auberge reached high into the afternoon sky, a black exclamation point at the end of a jarring surprise. Corbin dropped us to treetop level, and it fell from sight. Another drop delivered us into a canyon that widened to become the StratoDyne complex.
The shuttle stood erect on its launch pad, a shimmering white bird gripping four rust-red boosters.
Corbin set the copter down with a couple of uneasy bumps. Ann and Bridget dragged Isadora out.
