“Okay. Nothing yet. Maybe he’s- Hang on, the side door’s opening up. He’s coming out! He’s going into the house.”
“Is he holding a gun?”
“Uh, I don’t, I don’t think so!”
I figured it wouldn’t take him any more than ten or fifteen seconds to get from the house door to the room we were in now. I positioned myself against the wall, by the doorframe. I could hear Blondie’s steps coming down the hall, stop, then the knob turned and the door began to open.
“I was-” he started to say, but then he felt the cold ring of metal against his temple.
“Don’t move,” I said.
“No problem,” he said.
“Come in very slowly.”
He quickly took in the scene, assessed it. His partner on the floor, bleeding. Bullock not moving, standing behind a very damp desk. Angie standing on the other side of the door, her gun trained on Bullock.
“Nice frisking job,” Bullock said to him.
“Where’s your gun?” I asked.
“Tucked into the back of my pants,” he said. I looked around, saw it, couldn’t help but think that he had a butt sticking out of his butt. Funny how the mind works.
I moved slightly behind him, keeping the gun close to his head, then took the gun from the back of his pants with my left hand. Now that I’d given Pockmark’s weapon to Angie, I could slip this new one into my now empty left pocket.
“Now step into the room and lie facedown on the floor,” I said.
Blondie did as he was asked.
I got back on the phone. “Trevor, go into the garage.”
“Gotcha.”
I could hear him running across the property, then the sound of a door opening and closing.
“See my car?”
“Yeah. Shit, it’s all in pieces.”
“It’s mostly the inside door panels. Don’t worry about that. See if the keys are in it.”
“Hang on, yeah, they’re here.”
“See if it’ll start.”
I listened. The Virtue was so quiet, I wasn’t sure I’d hear it come on even if it did. “No, it won’t.”
I could hear my heart pounding in my temples. “Turn the key ahead, move the shifter back and forth a couple times, try it again.”
I heard some noise in the background. “Okay, it’s on. You’re a genius.”
I let out a breath. “Just leave it running. There should be a button somewhere that opens that middle garage door.”
“Just a minute. Okay, yeah, I think this is it. Yep, the garage door is going up.”
“I want you to back the Virtue out, get it turned around in the driveway, leave the engine running. Leave the driver’s door open, you get in the back. Have the back door open that faces the house. When I come out, I’m going to put Angie in the back with you so you can look after her. She’s a bit woozy.”
“You don’t want me to drive?”
“I’ll drive. Can you do everything I’ve asked?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll leave my phone on but put it in my pocket for a sec. Stay on the line.”
“Okay.” To Angie, I said, “We’re leaving, honey. We’re getting out of here in just a few seconds.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said. “Did I hear right, is Trevor out there?”
“Yeah.”
“That little weasel, putting that fucking thing in my coat.”
“Why don’t we get angry with him about it later, after he saves our lives?”
“I suppose.” She grabbed her coat, slinging it over her arm so she could still keep the gun on Bullock.
“Mr. Walker?”
I held the phone back up to my ear. “Yeah.”
“I’m all set to go here. Run out, hop in the driver’s seat, and we’re off.”
“Good man,” I said. “We’ll be right out.” I slipped the phone into my jacket. “We’re going to be on our way, guys.” I pointed to Pockmark, the dark stain on his trousers getting even larger. “I think you should see about getting this one to a doctor.”
I motioned Angie toward the door. “You go first,” I said. “Get in the car.”
She slid by me and out the door. I heard her run down the hall, through the kitchen, then a door open and close.
“Get under the desk,” I said to Bullock. He scrunched down and got under. Then I told Blondie to do the same. He had some difficulty jamming himself under there with his boss.
Then I ran.
I was out the house door in a second. The Virtue was sitting there, right where it was supposed to be, Trevor and Angie in the back, plus Morpheus, jumping around the backseat and into the front. The driver’s door was left open, and I hopped in, threw the car into drive, and pressed the accelerator, knocking Morpheus, who was without doubt one of the ugliest dogs I’d ever seen, off his feet and into the back of the front bucket. The car jerked to a start, and we were flying down the sloped driveway so quickly the car’s front underpan slammed into the street as we turned onto it.
I caught a glimpse of Trevor, the strap of his laptop case looped over his shoulder, in my mirror and saw that he was turned around, looking behind us.
“They’re coming!” he said. “Two of them! They’re running to the SUV!”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Angie said as I swerved to avoid hitting a station wagon I’d just cut off.
“It’s okay,” Trevor said to her softly. “It’s going to be okay.” Morpheus bounded into the backseat and licked Trevor in the face.
We were nearing the end of Wyndham, and in my mirror I saw headlights sweeping down to the end of the Bullock house driveway. The Annihilator burst into view, straightened, started coming after us like the enormous beast it was.
I glanced back. Angie looked pale. “I really need some air,” she said. “I gotta put down a window or I’m gonna be sick. Oh crap, there’s no buttons or anything to put the window down.”
It was true. When they’d taken the inside door panels off to search for drugs, they’d removed the power window controls. But there was still a button on the dash for the sunroof, and I opened it. “How’s that?” I asked.
“Better,” she said.
“Trevor,” I said. “Call 911.”
“Yeah.” He had his phone out and was about to punch in the numbers when I hung a hard right at an intersection, tossing my passengers-human and canine-about. “You might try to get your seat belts on if you get a chance,” I advised.
“Here,” Trevor said to Angie, “I’ll get yours.” And he leaned across, grabbed the belt from above her shoulder, and secured it. Then he did his own. “I’m calling them now,” he said. Morpheus was in Angie’s lap now, looking like maybe he was going to have a nap.
I didn’t have a destination in mind. I just wanted to get away.
The Annihilator cut that last corner short, riding up over one curb and down another. As far back as it was, I could still hear its engine roar with the Virtue sunroof open.
Trevor, craning his head around every few seconds, said, “They’re gaining.”
I leaned on the gas, but the hybrid didn’t take off the way I might have hoped. The SUV was closing the distance.
“Is this the police?” Trevor said into his phone. “We’re being chased by some people who want to kill us! Uh, we’re in a silver Virtue, going north on-” He looked around. “Where are we?” he shouted.
I wasn’t sure. I knew about as much as Trevor did, that we were heading north.
“I’m not sure. But look for a silver car being chased by a black SUV. There’s two men in it and they’re-”
