doubt about it.
I let go of the window frame, reached around to grab the pipe with my other hand, and fell out of the window. Someone yelled inside the apartment and I had a glimpse of a flashlight beam flickering in the living room as I slid down the pipe, kicking wildly to get my feet on something, the rough edges of the pipe joints ripping my hands. Then the pipe broke loose at the gutter and I swung out over the alley and crashed into the trees, losing my grip and tumbling down through the branches and leaves like a bundle of bloody laundry. I hit something hard, flipped upside down, smashed my shoulder and turned sideways, then crashed into a thorny hedge and landed on my face in the yard next door.
Jesus Christ.
I got up and ran through the yard into the alley. I had this weird limp and a knot on the side of my head, but I couldn't feel a thing. Someone yelled behind me and I ducked behind a trash can, gasping to catch my breath. When I looked down the alley, I saw a black SUV parked about a block away. A radio crackled somewhere and beams of light flickered between the garages. Just then, a man wearing a black field jacket and a headset mike ran into the alley and slowed to a walk, looking around. He was carrying a piece in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Sweeping its beam across the fence and hedges, he checked a couple doors, then he turned his back to me, waving at the SUV. He didn't look like a cop. Plainclothes, maybe. Tactical. I couldn't tell. The minute he turned his back, I ducked through a gate, struggled over a chain-link fence, then ran through another yard and came out on San Pablo down the street from my building. Another SUV had parked in front, but it looked empty. No markings. Nothing. Flashlight beams darted back and forth in the alley and voices barked through bursts of static. Whoever they were, they thought I was still back there.
I hid behind a parked car, then ran across the street into a driveway, climbed another fence, thrashed through some bushes, and came out in an alley lined with garages, dumpsters and crooked telephone poles. A dog barked in a yard. Gusts scattered leaves and trash across the pavement. I took off again, trying to keep to the shadows, then I tripped over a pot hole and fell on my ass. Panting, I scrambled to my feet, then ducked down again when I saw another black SUV pass on a side street about a block away. They must have had a spotlight mounted in the window. I heard them snap it on, then a foggy beam swept through the trees behind me.
I made it to the Dodge somehow, got in and ducked down on the front seat, panting and coughing. A car passed in the other direction. Headlights flashed in the rearview. I thought I heard voices and static nearby, then it got quiet again and I peeked over the dash. The street looked empty, but I knew they were all over the neighborhood, at least one SUV circling around and talking over the radio with the others on foot. If they were cops or feds, I had to get out of there before they called for a helicopter and more backup.
My hands were bleeding, my face scraped and raw. My leg hurt like crazy, but it didn't feel like it was broken. I started the engine and drove off nice and slow, expecting to get pulled over at any second, dragged out of the Dodge, clubbed and zapped with Tasers, then dumped into the back of an SUV with my head rammed down my throat. But nothing happened. I'd seen two vehicles, maybe three, so there were probably five or six of them, whoever they were, two at my door, two parked in back, and two circling the neighborhood. I didn't think any of them had seen me, but it didn't really matter. In a couple hours, I'd be the prime suspect in a murder investigation and every burrhead cop in the state would have me on his radar. They'd snoop around the station and talk to Deacon, then he'd talk to Heberto and they'd hand out the contract.
I got away, but it was simple dumb luck. Sirens wailed to the south and when
I let go of the window frame, reached around to grab the pipe with my other hand, and fell out of the window. Someone yelled inside the apartment and I had a glimpse of a flashlight beam flickering in the living room as I slid down the pipe, kicking wildly to get my feet on something, the rough edges of the pipe joints ripping my hands. Then the pipe broke loose at the gutter and I swung out over the alley and crashed into the trees, losing my grip and tumbling down through the branches and leaves like a bundle of bloody laundry. I hit something hard, flipped upside down, smashed my shoulder and turned sideways, then crashed into a thorny hedge and landed on my face in the yard next door.
Jesus Christ.
I got up and ran through the yard into the alley. I had this weird limp and a knot on the side of my head, but I couldn't feel a thing. Someone yelled behind me and I ducked behind a trash can, gasping to catch my breath. When I looked down the alley, I saw a black SUV parked about a block away. A radio crackled somewhere and beams of light flickered between the garages. Just then, a man wearing a black field jacket and a headset mike ran into the alley and slowed to a walk, looking around. He was carrying a piece in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Sweeping its beam across the fence and hedges, he checked a couple doors, then he turned his back to me, waving at the SUV. He didn't look like a cop. Plainclothes, maybe. Tactical. I couldn't tell. The minute he turned his back, I ducked through a gate, struggled over a chain-link fence, then ran through another yard and came out on San Pablo down the street from my building. Another SUV had parked in front, but it looked empty. No markings. Nothing. Flashlight beams darted back and forth in the alley and voices barked through bursts of static. Whoever they were, they thought I was still back there.
I hid behind a parked car, then ran across the street into a driveway, climbed another fence, thrashed through some bushes, and came out in an alley lined with garages, dumpsters and crooked telephone poles. A dog barked in a yard. Gusts scattered leaves and trash across the pavement. I took off again, trying to keep to the shadows, then I tripped over a pot hole and fell on my ass. Panting, I scrambled to my feet, then ducked down again when I saw another black SUV pass on a side street about a block away. They must have had a spotlight mounted in the window. I heard them snap it on, then a foggy beam swept through the trees behind me.
I made it to the Dodge somehow, got in and ducked down on the front seat, panting and coughing. A car passed in the other direction. Headlights flashed in the rearview. I thought I heard voices and static nearby, then it got quiet again and I peeked over the dash. The street looked empty, but I knew they were all over the neighborhood, at least one SUV circling around and talking over the radio with the others on foot. If they were cops or feds, I had to get out of there before they called for a helicopter and more backup.
My hands were bleeding, my face scraped and raw. My leg hurt like crazy, but it didn't feel like it was broken. I started the engine and drove off nice and slow, expecting to get pulled over at any second, dragged out of the Dodge, clubbed and zapped with Tasers, then dumped into the back of an SUV with my head rammed down my throat. But nothing happened. I'd seen two vehicles, maybe three, so there were probably five or six of them, whoever they were, two at my door, two parked in back, and two circling the neighborhood. I didn't think any of them had seen me, but it didn't really matter. In a couple hours, I'd be the prime suspect in a murder investigation and every burrhead cop in the state would have me on his radar. They'd snoop around the station and talk to Deacon, then he'd talk to Heberto and they'd hand out the contract.
I got away, but it was simple dumb luck. Sirens wailed to the south and when
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