Bill strained, trying to kick Carlos away, but he received a stiff poke in the eye and the pistol was ripped from his hand.
“You son of a…”
There was a thumping sound, and a scream. Bill squinted, focusing his blurry vision.
Theena had whacked Carlos across the face with her cactus.
She dropped the pot. Half the plant was gone, a ragged break on top leaking milky fluid.
The other half was embedded in the killer’s face. He wrestled with it. Some of the needles held like fish hooks, stretching his skin as he pulled. His wail was keening, a hurt puppy.
Bill scurried to his feet and picked up his overnight bag-he didn’t want to lose the N-Som file. Then he grabbed Theena’s wrist.
“Back door!”
She stared for a long moment at the man writhing on the floor, then ran with Bill to the apartment’s rear entrance.
They hit the stairwell and bounded down two at a time. Their footsteps echoed on the concrete, and Bill couldn’t be sure he didn’t hear someone above, coming after them. It fueled his fear.
The cold gave Bill a shock when they stepped outside. The earlier drizzle had frozen, forming an icy sleet. Without a coat, the weather pinched at his cheeks and hands. He tugged Theena through the alley, trying to decide where to go.
He saw a cab, coming down the block. Bill chanced a look behind him. Franco, charging towards them like a bull, his head down and fists pumping.
Bill stepped in front of the cab, forcing it to stop. He and Theena practically dove inside.
“Go! Go! Go!”
The cabbie gave Bill a look of annoyance. He opened his mouth to object and then noticed Franco barreling towards his cab.
“A hundred bucks to get us out of here!”
The cab squealed tires, doing a little fishtail peel-out, leaving the overgrown thug hollering after them.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Bill didn’t answer. Where could they go?
“We could try the police…”
Theena shook her head. “Those were Rothchilde’s men. He owns the police.”
Bill remembered he had Agent Smith’s cell phone number. Carlos and Franco had known he’d called the FBI, but they could have found out by bugging his condo, or hacking into his phone records. Or the FBI could have told them. Should he take the chance?
“Does he own the FBI?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible.”
Bill’s cell phone was in his jacket, back at Theena’s. He looked at the cabbie’s picture, posted on his license. His name was Fasil. Bill tapped on the glass partition.
“Fasil, do you have a cell phone?”
“I’m sorry, I do not lend it to customers.”
“One call. I’ll give you another hundred.”
Bill fished out his wallet and slipped four fifties through the opening. The cabbie handed Bill his phone.
Bill’s trembling fingers refused to obey, and he dialed the wrong number three times. The fourth time, the call finally went through.
“Agent Smith.”
“This is Dr. William May, I talked to you the other day.”
“Yes, Dr. May. Are you in trouble?”
“Yes. You still have agents watching us, right? We need them to take us in. Too much is going on.”
“Where are you right now, Doctor?”
Bill didn’t sense any kind of deception. But that could have been because he wanted a way out of this so badly.
“We’re in a cab, heading southbound on Foster.”
“Foster and what?”
Bill squinted out the window.
“Irving Park Road.”
“Okay, Doctor. I need you to park and wait there until I can contact my men. Can you do that?”
Bill instructed the cabbie to pull over. Theena shot him a panicked look.
“Okay, I did it. Now what?”
“Some agents will approach the cab. They’ll show you ID. You can go with them, they’ll take you to a safe house. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
The line went dead. Bill patted Theena’s thigh. “It’s okay. The good guys are coming.”
The cabbie swiveled around in his seat.
“You want me to park here?”
“For a few minutes. Someone is coming to pick us up.”
He put an arm around Theena and felt shivering. Bill wasn’t sure if it was her or him.
A few minutes passed.
“Come on, Smith. Where are you?”
“Smith?” Theena pulled away from Bill, her eyes wide. “Gerald Smith?”
“Special Agent Smith is the Fed I talked to. I don’t know his first name. Why?”
“I’ve overheard Albert on the phone before, talking to someone named Gerald Smith. I got the impression he was with the FBI.”
Bill chewed his lower lip. To his right, a dark sedan with tinted windows approached the cab and slowed to a stop.
“Bill, we have to get out of here!”
The doors of the sedan opened, and two men in suits got out of the car.
“Bill, please!”
“Fasil, get ready to move if I give you the signal.”
“I appreciate the money sir, but I am becoming frightened. Please get out of my cab.”
One of the men tapped on the window. He was holding up a wallet, showing Bill his ID and badge.
“Dr. May? We’re the FBI. Step out of the vehicle.”
Bill was torn apart with doubt. If Smith was a good guy, this whole thing would end here. The Feds would take them in, they’d tell their story, and hopefully it would be enough to put Rothchilde away.
But if Smith were in this with Rothchilde…
“Bill, if we go with them, we’ll die. Please.”
Theena squeezed his arm, imploring. Bill decided he couldn’t take the chance, tempting as it was.
“Fasil-please drive us away from here.”
“I do not want to get involved.”
“Please, Fasil. If we get out here, these men will kill us.”
“Then they may kill me as well. Get out of my cab.”
Bill took off his watch, a high end Movado with a diamond at the twelve o’clock mark. He held it up to the glass.
“It’s worth over two grand. Just drive us away from here, and it’s yours.”
The FBI agent tried to open Bill’s door. Theena screamed, and Bill pulled on the handle to keep it closed.
“Please, Fasil!”
There was a screech, then the cab rocketed forward. Bill turned around.
The agents had drawn their guns.
“Get down!”
The pop-pop-pop of gunfire ensued, immediately followed by the metallic twang of bullets hitting the trunk.
