Rising Storm

' John?' she said, whipping off her sunglasses. 'I've been looking all over—'

' Mom?' The relief he felt almost made him weak in the knees. 'No time,' he said brusquely, and got behind her on the moped. 'Dieter's in trouble. Follow that car.'

Sarah rolled her eyes. 'And here I'd hoped there'd come a day when I neither heard nor used that phrase ever again,' she said as she revved up the little machine and started down the road.

'So what's your story?' she asked, pleased by the feel of his arms around her.

She'd missed him so much.

'Dieter went to Garmendia to get help in getting back to Paraguay,' John explained.

Sarah frowned. 'He went to Garmendia for something like that?' That was like using an ax to swat a fly.

John shrugged. 'He thinks of Lazaro as a smuggler and doesn't seem to think he's dangerous. Anyway, uh…'

Uh-oh, Sarah thought. When John's voice petered out like that he was usually going to say something she didn't like. 'What?' she demanded.

He pursed his lips for moment, then plunged ahead. 'Garmendia thinks that you've told us some big, dark secret of his, so he cooperated with us the first time we came through here and asked for his help.'

'Shit!' Sarah muttered. 'That was an incredibly stupid thing to do, John!'

'But this time he took exception.' John winced. That was putting it mildly considering that Garmendia was going to throw Dieter to the crocodiles.

Shaking her head, Sarah said, 'If you only knew. I'm surprised you lived long enough for there to be a this time.'

Up ahead she caught sight of the big limo. She took stock of what they knew.

Well, we know who's in the car, we know where they're going and why. Now

what do we do about it?

'Mom, are you carrying?'

'Don't you know me any better than that?' she asked. 'Check the side saddle.'

John opened one of the straw baskets attached to the side of the bike. There, wrapped in a red-and-white- checked napkin, he found a micro-Uzi and three spare magazines, plus a stun grenade.

'What about you?' he asked, flicking the napkin back over the gun.

'I'm covered,' she said grimly.

They rode on in silence for a while as they'd come to a more populated area and the traffic was thick and deadly; you got a license here by paying the jefe a small bribe, if you bothered to get a license at all. Fortunately the limo had to slow down as much, if not more, than their little moped; there were trucks, gaudily painted and often crammed with crates of poultry.

Once Sarah had to stop lest she risk coming up right behind them.

'Mom,' John suddenly said. 'I've been thinking, and we need to stop them before they get to Garmendia's yacht.'

Sarah said nothing as she concentrated on the traffic but turned her head slightly to show she was listening.

'If we could take out a tire they'd have to stop.'

'Yes,' she agreed. 'But we'd still be five to two with Dieter in their hands.'

John blew out his breath. 'Yeah, anyway your micro-Uzi wouldn't do it.' Sarah was silent a little longer, then John felt her relax..

'It's not the best idea in the world,' she said, 'but it's the best we've got. Look in my other saddlebag.'

Leaning back, John rummaged in the basket for a moment.

'Cool!' he said, 'One of those collapsible shotguns.' He hugged her one-armed as he examined it. 'I might have known you'd have one of these. And explosive shells! Neat!'

Sarah smiled. 'Yeah, I'm always on the lookout for something practical that will fit in my purse.'

She sped up as they came into the riverside area of town, deserted this time of the year, drawing even with the limo's back end. Sarah felt like she had a target painted on her chest, even though the limo's blacked-out windows made it impossible to tell if they'd even spotted her yet. She felt John adjusting his weight as he prepared to bring the shotgun up from the side away from the limo.

Suddenly the huge black car sped up.

'They've seen us,' she muttered.

'C'mon, Mom, we're losing 'em,' John said.

Sarah gunned the throttle; unfortunately, that didn't mean much on a moped.

'Mo-om!'

'This is our top speed, John! We're on a moped, for God's sake, not a chopped Harley!'

He let out an impatient breath. 'Gee, this situation seems weirdly familiar.'

'No. That would be them trying to run us down while we're in a vehicle that seems to be standing still.' She grimaced; her life was probably going out of control again if she was measuring positive and negative by such bizarro standards.

John kept his gaze focused on the limo as though he could slow it by sheer will.

Up ahead the road curved sharply and the limo slowed. Sarah maintained her speed, leaning into the curve like a racer, and they quickly gained back lost ground. Buildings reared on either side, huge decrepit warehouses— from the rubber boom, or perhaps one of the seventies megaprojects gone bust.

'Go, go, go,' John urged, barely above a whisper. He automatically shifted his weight to balance his mother's and his eyes sought out his target.

'Now, John,' his mother said. 'This is as good as it's gonna get.'

He brought up the shotgun, aimed, and fired. A brief spurt of fire from the dusty, potholed street; a miss. The limo slammed on the brakes, fishtailing slightly, and the moped shot ahead of them, turning down an alley.

'MOM!' John shouted in protest. 'What the hell are you doing?'

Sarah didn't answer; she was too busy trying to get them away from potential disaster. What was I thinking? she berated herself. This is John I've got riding behind me! Riding behind her pitting a shotgun against a carload of demented goons. Nothing was more important than John. Nothing! Not even Dieter von Rossbach, who should have known better than to pit himself against a rottweiler like Garmendia. Especially armed with nothing better than a secret he didn't even know.

How could she forget that even for a second?

'Mom,' John said, leaning close. 'You remember how a minute ago we were talking about them chasing us? Well, they're doing it!'

Shit! she thought.

Up ahead there was a burst of debris from a wall.

'And they're firing at us,' John added.

No kidding.

'They've got automatic weapons,' he went on, as something—somethings—

went whackwhackwhack through the air far too close. She began to sway the moped back and forth. That's not going to help for long, she thought. The limo was already gaining.

John risked a glance behind them. There were gunmen leaning out of the car windows, all of them firing. 'Mom?' he said, his voice quavering a little. Bullets whizzed by, spanging up dirt and bits of building around them.

Sarah saw a dark space up ahead that warned of an alley between the tightly packed buildings and she turned into it. Unfortunately it was wide enough for the limo and she knew they'd follow. It wound on and she