Headlights pierced the gray swirling world around us. The car was beading in on us. I was almost
dragging her as we reached the narrow passageway between two old warehouses. I shoved her in.
There were half a dozen garbage pails piled up at the mouth of the alley.
“Down!” I yelled, and shoved her behind the cans.
The car, a black Pontiac, swept by a moment later, its brakes squealed, and there were three shots. I
didn?t hear them; they exploded against the cans and the wall behind us.
I clawed for my .357 and gave them three back. They smacked into the side of the car and it sudden y
backed away from the mouth of the alley.
I looked behind us. The alley was about a car and a half wide, two hundred feet long. No doorways,
although there was a loading platform and alcove about halfway down. The loading platform lip
1utted three feet into the alley. There was dim light at the other end.
“We?re going to run for it,” I said. “I?ll be behind you. If you hear any shooting, keep running. If they
come after us in the car, keep running.”
She looked at me, terrified.
“Go, now!” I gave her a shove.
She pulled off her shoes and took off. I went after her. She could move, I?ll give her that, even in
stocking feet on cobblestones. We were almost to the end of the alley when I heard the rumble of the
sedan.
The car had gone around the warehouse and was in front of us. Its headlights burst back on, turning
the swirling fog into dancing halos.
“Damn,” I cried, spinning her around. We dashed back the way we had collie. The car screamed
around the corner behind us. I heard a pop, heard the slug wheeze past my ear, heard rubber tearing at
cobblestones. Light flooded the alley.
We ran to the loading platform and I dove up onto the lip, pulled her on top of me, and rolled over
against a metal door at the back of the loading alcove.
The driver of the car swerved toward our side of the alley, saw the platform lip too late. Metal
screamed against wood. The corner of the platform pierced a headlight, ripped through it, and tore
part of a fender away. The sedan lurched sideways, its tires trying to get a grip on the cobblestones as
it skidded sideways and raked the opposite wall with its rear end. Sparks showered from its tortured
rear end.
The gunner was undaunted by all the action. Three more shots spanged off the metal door behind us.
Among other things, I?m a rotten shot. But my .357 was equipped with phosphorescent T-sights and I
swung the heavy pistol with the car, steadied my hand, lined up the little green button on the end of
