As if on cue, a taxicab screeched to a stop at the curb next to them.
“See?” Dodger exclaimed. “Things are looking up already!”
The two got in the cab and settled in for the ride uptown.
“Manhattan Tower Hotel,” Dodger said to the cabbie. “Don’t take the scenic route.”
“No, sir!” the cabbie said brightly. “I’ll get you right where you need to be.”
Courtney froze. She knew that voice. It took her two seconds to process the information and make a decision.
“Get out!” she yelled at Dodger.
“Wha-?” he asked dumbly.
“Get out of the car!” she screamed, and grabbed at the door handle. It was locked. She went for the door lock. It was sawed off. She lurched across Dodger’s lap to the door on his side. It was just as locked and just as sawed off.
“What are you doing?” Dodger asked in confusion.
“Yeah,” the cabbie said. “What are you doing? Don’t want to take a spin with me?”
Courtney didn’t have to look at the cabbie to know who it was, but she looked anyway. A glass partition separated the front seat from the back, but she could still see the cabbie as plain as could be. Staring back at them, wearing the floppy hat of a New York cabbie, was Andy Mitchell.
“Saint Dane,” Courtney whispered.
“Who?” Dodger asked.
Mitchell snorted, smiled, and exclaimed, “Let’s roll!”
The cab lurched forward, throwing Courtney and Dodger back into the seat.
“Hey!” Dodger screamed. “Are you nuts?”
“If I had a nickel for every time somebody asked me that…,” Mitchell said with a laugh.
“Who is he?” Dodger asked Courtney.
“He’s the bad guy,” Courtney answered.
“Pleased to meet you!” Mitchell said, tipping his cap. “Mitchell’s the name.”
“I thought you said his name was Saint Dane?” Dodger asked Courtney.
The cab screeched around a corner, seemingly up on two wheels. Courtney fell into Dodger. The tires dug into the road. The car flew forward.
“Where’s Mark?’ Courtney yelled.
“You’re too late.” Mitchell laughed. “He’s a big shot now. He won’t be living in dumps like that anymore.”
Horns blared as the cab snaked through traffic.
“Hey, Mac! Slow down!” Dodger ordered, banging on the glass.
“What’s the matter, bellboy? Ain’t you up for a little adventure?”
Dodger yanked on the door. It was a waste of energy.
“How did you do it, Saint Dane?” Courtney snarled. “How did you get Mark to come here?”
Andy Mitchell laughed and gave a humble shrug. “Hey, it’s what I do.”
He turned the wheel hard, cutting off another car, sending it careening off the road and onto a sidewalk.
“Yeehaaa!” Mitchell shouted with exhilaration.
Dodger yelled just as loud. In terror.
Andy yanked the wheel the other way. They bounced off the sidewalk and screamed across three lanes of traffic. Cars spun out and skidded into one another to avoid the cab from hell. Dodger leaned back in his seat and kicked at the glass partition that kept them away from Saint Dane.
“Stop… the… car!” he ordered.
“Why are you doing this?” Courtney yelled. “If you wanted to kill me, you could have done it a thousand times over.”
“I don’t want to kill you, Chetwynde. I just want to have a little fun.”
“It’s below you to torture me,” Courtney said, trying to keep her voice in control. She was scared to death, but she didn’t want to let Saint Dane know that.
“Then consider this a favor,” he said.
“Favor?” Dodger shouted. He kicked at the glass. It was too thick to break.
Mitchell skidded into a turn. Courtney saw the Hudson River directly in front of them. The demon spun the wheel again and they were on the West Side Highway, headed south, parallel to the wide river.
“Why is this a favor, Saint Dane?” Courtney asked, trying to stay focused and keep the fear back.
“Your job is done, Chetwynde,” Andy Mitchell said. “You did exactly what I needed you to do. Now it’s time for you to toddle on home.”
“I can’t break the glass,” Dodger screamed.
Courtney barely knew Dodger was even there. She was focused on Andy. On Saint Dane.
“What did I do?” she asked.
“Isn’t that obvious?” Mitchell laughed. “Sorry you nearly died in Vermont but, hey, if that’s what it took, so be it. Nice to see you’re not crippled anymore.”
Mitchell laughed and jammed past two drivers who were going too slowly for him. They blasted their horns. Mitchell giggled and waved at them.
“What are you talking about?” Courtney demanded.
“Are you stupid or do you just look it?” Mitchell asked. “We came to your rescue. Dimond and me. It was a real bonding experience. After I helped save your life, I looked like a real hero to him. After that, he trusted me, and it was all thanks to you.”
Mitchell bashed into the traffic divider, blowing out the right front wheel. The car lurched to the right, but Mitchell kept in control and charged on.
“That’s why you ran me off the road in Massachusetts?” Courtney asked. “So you and Mark could come to my rescue?”
Mitchell turned all the way around, taking his eyes off the road. He looked right at Courtney and grinned. “Face it, Chetwynde. You delivered Mark Dimond. Now that I’ve got him, I’ve got Halla.”
“No!” Courtney lost it. She screamed and banged on the glass. Her fists were only inches from Andy Mitchell. From Saint Dane. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to bash his smug face. She wanted him to die.
“Look out!” Dodger shouted.
The cab flew down an exit ramp and off the elevated highway. Andy Mitchell casually looked forward and took the wheel, steering clear of a cement barrier.
“Whoa, that would have hurt,” he said calmly.
The flat tire was shredded but the car charged on. Sparks flew from the metal rim that was now the fourth wheel. They were at the bottom of Manhattan, where the river widened out to become a harbor. Long piers jutted out into the water. Traffic picked up, but Andy Mitchell didn’t slow down.
“Where is he?” Courtney screamed, banging on the glass. “Tell me where he is!”
Mitchell turned the wheel one last time. He flew off the road, cut off a car, and bounced over the sidewalk. They were headed for one of the piers that stretched into the river. People strolled along casually, enjoying the day and admiring the view. Not for long. At the sound of the oncoming cab, they dove out of the way to avoid being mashed. The cab charged forward, blasting onto the wide pier.
“Hey! Dead end!” Dodger shouted.
“Is it?” Mitchell asked innocently. “Oops.”
Courtney didn’t care. She was beyond caring.
“Go home, Chetwynde,” Mitchell said calmly. “See your parents. Cuddle up with your mechanical cat. You have a couple of older brothers, don’t you? Spend some time with them. The battle is over. There’s nothing left for anybody to do but sit back and watch me fly.”
Courtney became calm. It didn’t matter that they were hurtling toward the end of the pier. She sat back in the seat and folded her arms.
“You’re wrong,” she said calmly. “It’s not close to being over. Bobby won’t let that happen, and neither will I.”
Andy Mitchell whipped around to look into the backseat. Only he wasn’t Andy Mitchell anymore. His face had
