by Matt Abraham
Chapter 30
“Maybe,” I said, “but not today. Quick, what’s the difference between that vial and the grade nine type?”
Pete searched his memory. “The metal, the casing, the gas intake-”
“That last one,” I said. “Explain.”
“Grade nine pushes the chemical out with internal pressure. This vial, when it sprays, exchanges gas with the atmosphere as it clicks off. And since ni-tri ignites in oxygen…”
“So if I cover the nozzle after I spray it?”
“Impossible,” Pete said. “It’ll take a couple hundred pounds of force to-”
“Got it.” I snatched the vial, aimed it at the lock, and sprayed a stream of ni-tri on it.
“No!” Pete ducked down and covered his head.
I capped the tip with my thumb, then clicked it off. And the vial stayed whole. But the lock burst into orange and blue flames. Along with my thumb.
It was like someone drilling through the bone. There was no time to cry about it though, because the lock melted and fell to the ground. I kicked the door open and ran into the next room. Sirens were screaming all around as red lights flashed. The guard was gone. But he left the exit open. I charged through it. Drew the vial way back. And with my thumb still smoldering I threw the ni-tri as hard as I could.
The metal tube sailed through the air.
And it exploded.
A wall of fire came rushing at me. Orange, red, and roiling, it hit like a wave. Everything on my body turned hot as I flew through the air. And back into the building. Monday slammed the door. The flames hit it hard, and shook the walls. While all three of us froze, waiting for the second explosion that would end our lives.
But it never came.
Pete opened the door and walked outside. “How did you… That was amazing.”
I joined him. “Thanks.”
Then Monday came out. “Great toss, Dane. Sorry about that. It was-”
“If you say force of habit,” I said, “I’m going to slug you.”
The cop nodded. “Anyway, sorry Pete.”
I threw my arm around our host’s shoulder and pulled him to me. “It’s no biggie. After all, it’s not like we were bored.”
#
Pete led us to our car without another word, and we headed back to the city. It took about forty minutes to hit the Welcome To Gold Coast City sign that’s painted with twenty-four carat dust, and fifteen minutes after that we were in front of the giant silver donut that housed Panier Solutions.
Its lobby was as wide as an airplane hanger, and smelled clean like mountain air. It was also empty, save for some leather sofas, and the reception desk, which was a large semi-circle built into the far wall. Inside it were three smartly dressed kids, and a thirty-foot statue of twin winged women.
As we neared it, one of the receptionists, a blond girl in a black suit, smiled at us like she was hawking toothpaste. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”
Monday pulled his badge. “I’m here to speak wi-”
“Oh yes, I know. Vice President Spinner. We were informed you’d be coming.” Her smile may’ve stayed bright, but it got a bit brittle as she motioned to the closest leather sectional. “Please take a seat, the VP will be here shortly.”
Monday said, “How long until he gets here?”
And her brittle smile dimmed some. “I’m sure Ms. Spinner won’t be long.”
“Got it,” I said. “Thanks.”
We walked over and plopped down on the couch. I grabbed the nearest magazine, but barely got past the second page when a woman said, “You’re the detectives, yes? I’m Laura Spinner.”
The VP stood a few feet away looking down at me with something less than respect. Her soft, dark skin matched her long, black tresses, and whoever cut the green suit she had on tailored it in such a way that it inspired wicked thoughts, but then judged you harsh for having them.
The cop jumped to his feet. “Thank you for seeing us. I’m Detective Monday and this is Dane.”
I sat back and crossed my legs.
She cocked an eyebrow at me before turning to Monday. “My office told me this was about a recent theft involving nitro-tri-phosphorus.”
“It is,” he said.
“Then this will be a short meeting. We haven’t had any here for some time.”
“But the Center for Biotech and Information said-”
“The CBI is not mistaken. But early last year we ceased its production and transported all of our stock to the facilities in Mexico.”
“Old or new?” I said.
Spinner kept her eyes on the cop. “Old.”
Monday said, “Who oversaw transport?”
“Myself.”
“And how can you be sure that none went missing?” I said.
“Since we crossed the border with a volatile substance we dealt with auditors from two Federal governments.” She held up a folio. “You can check all three of our reports. Now, is there anything else?”
“Nothing,” Monday said, taking the folder.
I nodded. “Thanks for your time.”
We took the long trek back across the lobby, and when we finally got to Monday’s car he said, “That was quick.”
“But do you believe her?”
He looked down at the folder. “I find governments and companies all make mistakes. But I doubt these three would all make the same one.”
“Agreed,” I said. “So Chemi and Panier are off the hook.”
“Yep. But we still have Allen-Fox.” Monday opened his door and slid behind the wheel.
But I stood my ground. And stared at the big, silver building. Fighting the urge to grab my guns.
Monday got out, and looked over the roof at me. “We going?”
“In a second,” I said.
“What’re you looking at?”
“Can you see the reflection of that blue soccer mom SUV? The one in the upper parking lot?”
Monday didn’t move his head. “Yeah.”
“I think that’s the bastard who tried to kill us yesterday.”
“Are you serious?” Monday’s eyes clicked over. “But you said Scourge drove a black pickup.”
“He did. But as we slid down Hillimanjaro I tore a piece off its bumper, which is the exact same damage I saw on a red truck he used to run me down this morning. And it’s the same on that SUV up there.”
Monday snapped to me. “This morning? Is that what happened to your face? Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”
“Because… it’s not important. Now I’m telling you, that truck can change its color and shift its hide, and if we look in it we’ll find our killer.”
Monday gave it some thought. “Ok. Let’s go get him. But you don’t make a move until I do, got it?”
“I promise.”
We got into our car and drove towards the compound’s exit. There was only one road out, and on it, about twenty yards ahead, was a left turn that led to the upper parking lot. At the last second Monday turned up it, and gunned the engine.
But the SUV stayed put.
Monday pulled behind it and stopped. He hopped out and held up his badge. “Police, don’t move.”
And still, the SUV just sat there. As did the two people inside.
Creeping towards the front of the vehicle Monday put a hand on his pistol.
Then the blue vehicle roared to life. It drove forward, over the parking block, and bombed down the grassy hill towards the building.
I jumped out of the car. “I knew it.”
The SUV hit the lower lot we’d just come from and turned towards the exit.
I pulled Rico, aimed over our hood, and fired a high-velocity slug. It bounced off Scourge’s rear window.
“Stop shooting,” Monday said.
“Ok.” I ran around the back of our car.
Scourge was now out of the lower lot and rocketing towards the exit. I fired off a target seeker at his front tire. But despite it hitting dead center the vehicle kept rolling.
“What’re you doing?” Monday yelled. “I said stop.”
“I know.” I replaced Rico and pulled out Lois. Clicking off the safety my Kapowitzer doubled in size and glowed green. I depressed the trigger halfway and twin ribbons whipped out from the handle, crisscrossing down my arm.
“What the hell is that?” Monday asked.
“Retribution.” I aimed at the truck’s engine. And pulled the trigger.
As Monday tackled me.
The discharge was loud. The blast, bright. Lois’ kick sent me flying back. I landed flat, and when the spots vanished from my eyes I could see I was lying on the street, with Monday on top of me. Below us Scourge was almost at the gate.
“Why’d you do that?” I shoved Monday off and got up.
He staggered to his feet. “You blast them with a God damn Kapowitzer and we’ll both end up in jail.”
Lois was now glowing red. I knew how she felt. “Jail? Performing jail worthy acts is a part of my business model.” I holstered my gun, then slid behind the wheel, and slammed the door as Scourge crashed through the front gate’s wooden arm. “Come on, we’re losing him.”
Monday grabbed the handle. “Move over, I’m driving.”
“Not this time.” Reaching through the window I snatched his collar. I pulled him in, head first, and tossed him onto the passenger’s side.
Then I gave chase.
Chapter 31
For an SUV, the black-then-red-now-blue beast was moving swift. But thanks to my heavy foot we were only seconds behind it when our white sedan rocketed out the busted gate. Scourge had put some distance between us though, and about a half dozen cars occupied it.
“I’ll grab the screamer.” Monday opened the glove box, pulled out a siren, and fixed it to the roof. The thing let out a banshee’s wail, and those vehicles that separated us from our target moved aside.
“Here we come,” I said as we passed the last car and got on Scourge’s tail.
Monday said, “How’re we getting them off the road?”
I held up Rico in my right hand. “I can start throwing more harpoons any time.”
“Don’t,” Monday said. “Unless you can guarantee you won’t hit any citizens.”
I put the pistol out the window, aimed at the sky, and fired off five shots.
“What are you doing?” Monday said. “We’re-”
All five slugs cut a wide arc in the air, turned towards the SUV, and bounced off its side. “Those are target seekers. The first in each clip has a homing tracer the rest follow. Not like they did any good.”
Monday looked impressed. “What else you got loaded?”
“Explosive and high-velocity. But they just fly straight.”
He looked at my piece. Then scanned ahead. “Go for it.”
I leaned out the window far enough to aim with my right hand while still holding the wheel with my left. It was awkward, but I was going to make it work. Clamping one eye closed I lined up Scourge’s rear windshield with my muzzle real nice.
But he veered right. And clipped a station wagon. The smaller car fishtailed left. Then spun to a sideways stop in the middle of the road. I slid back into the driver’s seat, dropped Rico on my lap, and jerked the wheel to the right. We missed the wagon by inches as our back end pulled out too far. We squealed sideways. I jammed on the gas and forced us back on course. Though now Scourge was further out.
“You’re losing him, I’m calling in backup.” Monday grabbed his radio. “Dispatch, this is Detective Monday, I’m… wait.” He released the transmitter. “Are they slowing down?”
I looked ahead. Monday was right. The blue SUV was easing off the gas.
We closed the gap quick and got right on its rear. But then its back window slid down. And out poked a black rod.
“What the hell is that?” Monday said.
A pipe? Maybe a- “It’s a cannon, get down!”
The muzzle let fly a full dose of lead. Monday ducked as the slugs ripped a dozen round holes through our windshield and shredded his headrest.
“Son of a bitch.” Staying low the cop barked into his squawker. “Dispatch, this is Detective Monday. I’m in pursuit of a blue SUV on Palladium road, heading west into the city. The suspect has opened fire. Request immediate backup.”
The dispatcher came back with, “Roger that, backup on the way.”
The cannon fired a fresh round of bullets. They punched a crooked line across our hood. Thick, dark smoke seeped out each hole. The cloud blocked the windshield. I couldn’t see through it.
“Not good,” I said. “It’s time we go on the offensive. Take the wheel.”
“On it.” Monday reached over and held it steady, then peeked over the dash.
With a heavy foot on the gas I pushed myself out the window until everything above my belt was hanging in the breeze.
The cannon turned to me. It loosed more rounds. Two whizzed past my right ear. The third hit my shoulder. “God damn it.”
“You ok?” Monday said.
“Yeah,” I said. “That and angry.” Holding Rico steady I aimed at the cannon. But then the wind shifted, and the black smoke from our engine flowed my way. The smell of burnt motor oil choked my nostrils as the dark smog blocked my sight.
Monday yelled, “You going to shoot some more or what?”
“In a second.” I cocked the pistol. “Just one second.” And the wind shifted again, sending the smoke in the opposite direction. Now I could see the cannon clearly. Its Cyclops gaze was upon me. But I stared right back. And laid my sights straight down its maw. Then I pulled the trigger.
An explosion, bright and red, lit up the interior of the SUV. Scourge swerved right, then left, as smoke billowed out his rear window.
I slid back into the car, but left my head in the wind like a happy collie.
Monday sat up. “Nice shot.”
I yelled, “Yeah, now how about doing something about this smoke?”
“Give me a second.” Monday clicked open the heating vents in the backseat. The black cloud stopped seeping from the hood holes, and instead flowed directly from the engine into the rear of our car. I could see better now, but the air inside was getting thick, fast.
Monday said, “Now roll down-”
“Already on it.” Without taking my eyes off the road I pulled my head back in, then aimed Rico behind me and blasted out our rear windshield. The dark, gathering cloud blew right out the hole, and into our wake.
Monday was glowering. “I was going to say roll down the windows.”
“That’s what I did.”
“We’ll discuss it later, look.” Monday pointed ahead.
Scourge was pulling onto the crosstown expressway.
“I see him,” I said, and followed his trail of smoke up the ramp.
And glory be, there was nearly no traffic, just five broad lanes of side-by-side room in which to maneuver. I floored the pedal again. Outside my window buildings were flying by. We were now inside the city proper.
“Go faster,” Monday said.
I looked at the speedometer and the tachometer. It was three o’clock in both time zones. “This is as fast as it goes.”
“Then how’s he doing that?”
Monday was right to be amazed. Our speed was rubbing up on triple digits like a buzzy showgirl on a diamond dealer, but the blue SUV, a much larger and clearly armored vehicle, was putting distance between us, and not the kind you measure in inches.
“Never mind,” he said, “it doesn’t matter. Backup’s arrived.” On the other side of the highway, coming our way fast, were a pair of black and whites. They slammed on their brakes and pulled a U-turn through a gap in the dividers. We passed by them in a blur, but since they were GCCPD cruisers they caught us up fast, and whipped by in pursuit.
“Now we got the advantage,” Monday said.
“How do you figure?”
“There’s power in numbers.”
Glancing at Monday I said, “I’ve never found that to be
true.”
Ahead, one of the cruisers pulled up on Scourge’s left, while the other took the right, flanking him in. But then, Gunmetal leaned out of the SUV’s rear driver’s side window. She extended her arm and sent a bolt of red lightning into the cop car there. Its engine erupted, flipping the vehicle sideways onto its roof.
Gunmetal then slipped back in, and popped out of the other side. She tossed another bolt into the remaining cop car. It exploded too, then rolled to a stop.
As we zipped past the smoking wrecks I looked at Monday. “You were saying?”
“Never mind,” he said. “They’re getting off.”
Scourge got into the right lane and disappeared down the exit ramp.
“That’s residential,” Monday said. “What’s he thinking?”
“He’s thinking he’s going to switch the car’s exterior and get lost in traffic.” I moved to the right to follow them down. It took a few seconds to get there, and by the time we were at the top of the ramp Scourge was already at the bottom, turning right.
Monday snatched his radio. “Dispatch, the blue SUV is taking the Strontium Avenue off-ramp, we-”
“It’s not going to be a blue SUV for long,” I said.
Monday turned to me. “Yeah, but what am I supposed to tell them to look for? Any car of any color?”
“Anything with a busted bumper that’s blowing smoke.”
The radio chattered, “Detective Monday, come back. We’re looking for a blue SUV on Strontium, correct?”
Monday stared at me. “That’s correct. Or any vehicle with a…” He rubbed his face. “Busted bumper that’s also trailing smoke.”
“Repeat?” the radio said. “Any vehicle-”
“Yeah,” Monday said. “You heard right.”
“Copy that.” The dispatcher’s eye roll was practically audible. “All units be on the lookout for a blue SUV on Strontium. Or any vehicle at all with a damaged bumper emitting smoke.”
We hit the bottom of the ramp and turned right. Strontium Avenue had way more cars than the turnpike. But it only had two lanes, both going the same way, and there wasn’t a single side street to hide down.
The cars ahead of me heard our siren and pulled over. I gunned it past them.
