down on you. I didn't see the driver. There's no windows in the back of it. It's the truck we want."
"I see it!" Gadgets shouted, then the line cut off.
Suddenly Lyons' phone buzzed. "This is Smith. Your partner — he just pulled a screaming U-turn through four lanes of traffic. What's going on? What do you want me to do?"
"He gave you a D.F. receiver?"
"Yes, sir. I had a signal, but it's fading."
"Stay where you are. I think Hardman Two is going to be doing some circles."
"What if he takes one of the bridges into Brooklyn?"
"If he does, Hardman Three is on him. You stay where you are." Lyons leaned forward to his driver. "Drive over toward East Side Drive. That'll put us right under the bridges, right?"
"On my way."
The D.F. signal became a distant beeping. Lyons buzzed Gadgets. "Where are you? You staying behind them?"
"It's the truck, no doubt about it," Gadgets told him. "He's pulling turns and stops, trying to spot us."
"Is he heading toward either of the bridges?"
"Nope. Not yet. We just circled a block. Hey, he's going back up Allen. He's going north on Allen. Can you take him? He might have spotted my car."
"Smith's still on Allen, where you left him. You fall back. What kind of car do you have?"
"A Volkswagen beetle — with a Porsche engine and transmission. These feds have all the toys."
"Don't get a speeding ticket. Off." Lyons keyed Smith's code. "Smith! They're coming your way, get ready to move. You got the description? A green and white florist's truck, no windows in back."
"Yes, sir! Behind him already. Keeping a half-block distance behind him. He turned east, he's on Delancy. He could be headed for the Williamsburg Bridge. I'm on Delancy. He's turned again. South now."
"Don't turn. We'll be there in a minute. Stay near the bridge, he might be doing a last loop or two before going over the river."
"Parked and waiting, sir. Signal's holding steady."
The phone buzzed when Lyons broke the connection. "Hardman Three here. I think the signal's holding steady. I mean, I'm moving east, but I don't think
it
is moving at all."
"He was on Delancy. He turned south." Lyons glanced at his pocket street map of Manhattan. "Get out to Grand, and head west. I'll be one street north, criss-crossing. Off."
Smith buzzed him. "He passed me! But there's no signal from the van. Do I follow?"
"Get behind him! Stay with him until we can figure this out."
"Moving!"
Lyons turned up the volume on the minimike. The faint traffic and truck sounds were gone. Now, nothing. He listened, the speaker pressed to his ear.
Clang
! The metallic sound made him almost drop it. He held the minimike's receiver away from him, turned down the volume. He heard what sounded like steel on concrete. Footsteps. Then more sounds of steel. The sounds faded to almost nothing. Lyons buzzed Gadgets.
"You monitoring the minimikes?"
"Too faint for me. You get something?"
"I think the boy dropped him someplace, then took off. He passed Smith, on Delancy, but he had no signal. Nothing. Smith followed him over the Williamsburg Bridge. I don't know where they are now."
"Let's pull some circles around that block. On my way up."
"Head toward the Williamsburg Bridge," Lyons told his driver. "You have some equipment with you in this cab?"
"Yes, sir. Two Uzis, ammunition. Four Army-issue tear gas grenades. Two walkie-talkies. First aid kit. If there's anything else that you need..."
"I know, you can call." Lyons punched the code for Smith. "Where are you now?"
"He's taking me for a scenic tour of Brooklyn. He turns once in a while. Nothing serious. I'm staying a block back."
"Here's what I want you to do. Call one of your feds. With a civilian car, civilian clothes. New York identification. Have the fed crash into the truck. A fender bender. I don't want that boy driving around anymore. I want him out of the game. Maybe he has an outstanding warrant on him, could you arrange that?"
"Yes, sir. No problem."
"Then do it. Off."
They drove
"I see it!" Gadgets shouted, then the line cut off.
Suddenly Lyons' phone buzzed. "This is Smith. Your partner — he just pulled a screaming U-turn through four lanes of traffic. What's going on? What do you want me to do?"
"He gave you a D.F. receiver?"
"Yes, sir. I had a signal, but it's fading."
"Stay where you are. I think Hardman Two is going to be doing some circles."
"What if he takes one of the bridges into Brooklyn?"
"If he does, Hardman Three is on him. You stay where you are." Lyons leaned forward to his driver. "Drive over toward East Side Drive. That'll put us right under the bridges, right?"
"On my way."
The D.F. signal became a distant beeping. Lyons buzzed Gadgets. "Where are you? You staying behind them?"
"It's the truck, no doubt about it," Gadgets told him. "He's pulling turns and stops, trying to spot us."
"Is he heading toward either of the bridges?"
"Nope. Not yet. We just circled a block. Hey, he's going back up Allen. He's going north on Allen. Can you take him? He might have spotted my car."
"Smith's still on Allen, where you left him. You fall back. What kind of car do you have?"
"A Volkswagen beetle — with a Porsche engine and transmission. These feds have all the toys."
"Don't get a speeding ticket. Off." Lyons keyed Smith's code. "Smith! They're coming your way, get ready to move. You got the description? A green and white florist's truck, no windows in back."
"Yes, sir! Behind him already. Keeping a half-block distance behind him. He turned east, he's on Delancy. He could be headed for the Williamsburg Bridge. I'm on Delancy. He's turned again. South now."
"Don't turn. We'll be there in a minute. Stay near the bridge, he might be doing a last loop or two before going over the river."
"Parked and waiting, sir. Signal's holding steady."
The phone buzzed when Lyons broke the connection. "Hardman Three here. I think the signal's holding steady. I mean, I'm moving east, but I don't think
it
is moving at all."
"He was on Delancy. He turned south." Lyons glanced at his pocket street map of Manhattan. "Get out to Grand, and head west. I'll be one street north, criss-crossing. Off."
Smith buzzed him. "He passed me! But there's no signal from the van. Do I follow?"
"Get behind him! Stay with him until we can figure this out."
"Moving!"
Lyons turned up the volume on the minimike. The faint traffic and truck sounds were gone. Now, nothing. He listened, the speaker pressed to his ear.
Clang
! The metallic sound made him almost drop it. He held the minimike's receiver away from him, turned down the volume. He heard what sounded like steel on concrete. Footsteps. Then more sounds of steel. The sounds faded to almost nothing. Lyons buzzed Gadgets.
"You monitoring the minimikes?"
"Too faint for me. You get something?"
"I think the boy dropped him someplace, then took off. He passed Smith, on Delancy, but he had no signal. Nothing. Smith followed him over the Williamsburg Bridge. I don't know where they are now."
"Let's pull some circles around that block. On my way up."
"Head toward the Williamsburg Bridge," Lyons told his driver. "You have some equipment with you in this cab?"
"Yes, sir. Two Uzis, ammunition. Four Army-issue tear gas grenades. Two walkie-talkies. First aid kit. If there's anything else that you need..."
"I know, you can call." Lyons punched the code for Smith. "Where are you now?"
"He's taking me for a scenic tour of Brooklyn. He turns once in a while. Nothing serious. I'm staying a block back."
"Here's what I want you to do. Call one of your feds. With a civilian car, civilian clothes. New York identification. Have the fed crash into the truck. A fender bender. I don't want that boy driving around anymore. I want him out of the game. Maybe he has an outstanding warrant on him, could you arrange that?"
"Yes, sir. No problem."
"Then do it. Off."
They drove
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