you stupid old git , I wanted to yell at him. Get off the battleground! I breathed in, rolled my shoulders. Under my shirt the SIG had already stuck to my back with sweat that wasn’t entirely brought on by the heat. It wasn’t in a holster and I wondered how long it would take me to bring it out.
Longer, I calculated grimly, than it would take the two men to draw and fire the guns I just knew they were carrying. If you can’t run then take the passenger down first. He’s more likely to get out of the car faster than the driver.
I took another couple of steps towards the Mercury, keys already out in my hand, when Brown called a final question.
“Say, young lady, weren’t you supposed to be looking after Trey today?”
Christ, the old boy had a death wish . “Erm yeah,” I said, glancing back at him as I wrenched the car door open. “I’ve left him with a friend.” I thought of Joyce. At the moment she was the nearest thing I’d got.
“Oh,” Brown said, clearly nonplussed at my cavalier attitude towards proper childcare. “Oh well, that’s OK then I guess. You take care now, Carly.”
I didn’t bother to correct him again, just jumped in and cranked the Mercury into life. In the rear-view mirror I saw Brown shaking his head as he turned back into his own driveway. I waited until he’d got another few steps towards comparative safety and hoped that, if the guys in the Buick were as dodgy as I feared, they wouldn’t mistake the old guy as one of my allies and go after him as well.
I needn’t have worried on Brown’s account. As soon as I put the car into gear I had their full attention. I tried not to make direct eye-contact as I passed within a few feet of the other car but it was impossible not to let my eyes slide sideways, just a little.
The two men were craning to see into the Mercury, lifting up in their seats as they did so, making no bones about it. It was immediately obvious that I wasn’t the one who interested them. They were checking to see the kid wasn’t hiding in the back. When they saw he wasn’t they swung the Buick in a tyre-squealing circle and hooked it onto my tail.
It wasn’t subtle but they knew, just as I did, that I couldn’t leave Trey where he was indefinitely. Sooner or later I was going to have to make a move to collect him.
And when I did, the game was going to be over.
***
It had to go on record as one of the slowest car chases ever. Instinct made me turn left at the top of the street, trying to slow down my pursuers by making them follow me across four lanes of traffic to copy the manoeuvre. Fat chance. They pulled out smoothly with only two cars between us.
Damn, but driving on the right was taking some getting my head round.
I trundled through the next two sets of lights sticking bang on the speed limit. Bearing in mind Oakley man’s profession, I didn’t want to risk getting pulled by the cops.
The only experience I had of American traffic stops came through reality TV shows and the movies. If they were anything to go by, even if the officers involved were on the level I was likely to get hauled out of the car and subjected to a pat-down search. I’d no idea if the gun I was carrying wedged into the small of my back was officially registered, but even if it was, it certainly wasn’t in my name.
Mind you, it always seemed to be the State Troopers of the Highway Patrol who engaged in that kind of gung-ho behaviour, rather than the city police or Sheriff’s department. I vaguely recalled that Oakley man had been with the city police. Just how interconnected were the various departments? Was he working on his own, or was someone else lurking in the shadows pulling his strings? I didn’t have a clue.
I kept driving, the area taking a step down with each passing block. My brain was frantically concocting and dumping solutions to my current situation. The beige Buick had moved up to one
Longer, I calculated grimly, than it would take the two men to draw and fire the guns I just knew they were carrying. If you can’t run then take the passenger down first. He’s more likely to get out of the car faster than the driver.
I took another couple of steps towards the Mercury, keys already out in my hand, when Brown called a final question.
“Say, young lady, weren’t you supposed to be looking after Trey today?”
Christ, the old boy had a death wish . “Erm yeah,” I said, glancing back at him as I wrenched the car door open. “I’ve left him with a friend.” I thought of Joyce. At the moment she was the nearest thing I’d got.
“Oh,” Brown said, clearly nonplussed at my cavalier attitude towards proper childcare. “Oh well, that’s OK then I guess. You take care now, Carly.”
I didn’t bother to correct him again, just jumped in and cranked the Mercury into life. In the rear-view mirror I saw Brown shaking his head as he turned back into his own driveway. I waited until he’d got another few steps towards comparative safety and hoped that, if the guys in the Buick were as dodgy as I feared, they wouldn’t mistake the old guy as one of my allies and go after him as well.
I needn’t have worried on Brown’s account. As soon as I put the car into gear I had their full attention. I tried not to make direct eye-contact as I passed within a few feet of the other car but it was impossible not to let my eyes slide sideways, just a little.
The two men were craning to see into the Mercury, lifting up in their seats as they did so, making no bones about it. It was immediately obvious that I wasn’t the one who interested them. They were checking to see the kid wasn’t hiding in the back. When they saw he wasn’t they swung the Buick in a tyre-squealing circle and hooked it onto my tail.
It wasn’t subtle but they knew, just as I did, that I couldn’t leave Trey where he was indefinitely. Sooner or later I was going to have to make a move to collect him.
And when I did, the game was going to be over.
***
It had to go on record as one of the slowest car chases ever. Instinct made me turn left at the top of the street, trying to slow down my pursuers by making them follow me across four lanes of traffic to copy the manoeuvre. Fat chance. They pulled out smoothly with only two cars between us.
Damn, but driving on the right was taking some getting my head round.
I trundled through the next two sets of lights sticking bang on the speed limit. Bearing in mind Oakley man’s profession, I didn’t want to risk getting pulled by the cops.
The only experience I had of American traffic stops came through reality TV shows and the movies. If they were anything to go by, even if the officers involved were on the level I was likely to get hauled out of the car and subjected to a pat-down search. I’d no idea if the gun I was carrying wedged into the small of my back was officially registered, but even if it was, it certainly wasn’t in my name.
Mind you, it always seemed to be the State Troopers of the Highway Patrol who engaged in that kind of gung-ho behaviour, rather than the city police or Sheriff’s department. I vaguely recalled that Oakley man had been with the city police. Just how interconnected were the various departments? Was he working on his own, or was someone else lurking in the shadows pulling his strings? I didn’t have a clue.
I kept driving, the area taking a step down with each passing block. My brain was frantically concocting and dumping solutions to my current situation. The beige Buick had moved up to one
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