An ambulance raced toward them as they sped away. If it was for the old man in apartment 102, they were too late. If it was for Officer Knock-Knock, they might arrive in time.
“Just let me go, please,” said Sydney.
Merselus almost chuckled. “Yeah. Like that’s gonna happen.”
Chapter Sixty
The white sedan was a blur as it sped past the vacant warehouse on South Miami Avenue. The nearest law enforcement vehicle in the area was the FBI communications van, just two buildings downriver.
“Let’s go!” shouted Andie as she jumped into the passenger seat. She activated the siren and the blue police beacon on the dash. Her partner was behind the wheel. The van roared out of the parking lot, and the not-yet-buckled tech agent in the back of the van slammed into his wall of equipment as the van squealed around the corner.
“Shit, guys!” he said as he climbed up from the floor and into his seat.
Andie got on the radio, no time to apologize.
“In pursuit of late-model white Chevrolet sedan headed north on South Miami Avenue toward Flagler,” Andie said into the microphone. “Subject is armed and dangerous. Appears to have at least one adult female hostage with him. Identity unconfirmed, but possibly Sydney Bennett. Request perimeter control to block all arteries and expressway on-ramps east of I-95 between Northwest Eighth Street and Southwest Third Street. Raise all drawbridges between Northwest Fifth Street and Brickell Avenue.”
“Copy that,” came the reply.
Andie hung the mic in its cradle and then unbuckled her seat belt long enough to put on a Kevlar vest-just in case.
City blocks are short in downtown Miami, and the van raced through one intersection after another, the siren blaring. The western edge of downtown was definitely not a pedestrian area after midnight, especially on weekdays. Storefronts were dark, many of them barricaded with roll-down shutters of corrugated metal. Streets and sidewalks were empty, scarcely a parked or moving car in sight. North-south traffic signals were programmed for long green lights-not that a red light or anything else would have stopped Merselus.
Four blocks ahead of them, the Chevy made a sudden turn east on Flagler Street.
“I think we got him,” Andie’s partner said.
Unless Merselus planned to jump the curb and drive through Bayfront Park straight into the bay, he would have to go left or right at the T-shaped intersection at the east end of Flagler Street, taking Biscayne Boulevard either north or south. Just as Andie radioed for additional backup, the Chevy made a hard left turn into an empty parking lot, cutting north toward the Miami-Dade College campus. The FBI van did the same, maintaining pursuit due north, weaving around the concrete parking bumpers in the empty lot.
“He’s headed straight for a fence.”
Just as the words crossed Andie’s lips, the Chevy crashed through a chain-link fence at the end of the parking lot and careened to the right. Broken metal fence posts and an entire section of chain link lay strewn across the asphalt, and the van bumped and rolled over it as they drove through the hole in the fence. They were suddenly on brick pavers, not asphalt, speeding down an empty pedestrian-only walkway in the heart of the urban campus. The FBI van was quickly gaining ground.
“I think he’s got a flat,” said Andie.
They’d closed the gap to less than a half block when the Chevy stopped so short that the orange taillights rose another foot from the ground. Merselus had reached a dead end: the three-foot-high, in-ground security posts that normally stopped vehicles from coming the other way, from the street to the pedestrian walkway. The driver’s-side door flew open, and Merselus fired at the van as he ran from his vehicle. There was a loud pop and starburst crack in the windshield as a bullet whizzed through the space between Andie and her driver, and the van screeched to a halt.
“Are you hit?” Andie shouted to the tech agent in the back.
“No.”
“Check on the hostage!” Andie shouted to her partner as they hopped out of the van.
With weapon drawn Andie ran past the school auditorium, past the half-block-long lecture hall, and down a narrow side street, pursuing Merselus on foot. She was closing in on him and had him in sight as he ran across the street. He stopped to try the door to the McDonald’s, and for a brief instant Andie feared a hostage situation, but the restaurant was closed and the doors were locked. He turned and ran up the block, then disappeared into an alley across from the campus. Andie’s legs were pumping at full speed, but she came to a quick stop at the alley’s entrance. It was a narrow opening, barely wide enough for a single vehicle to pass between the five-story buildings on either side. She stood to one side, her back to the wall. Winded from the all-out sprint, Andie had no choice but to breathe in the stench of an overloaded Dumpster that filled the warm night air. She was still wired for communication with the van, and as she caught her breath, she whispered an update on Merselus.
“Subject entered alley east side of First Avenue, twenty yards south of McDonald’s restaurant.”
With her back still pressed to the wall, she turned her head just enough to peer cautiously into the dark alley. It stretched less than fifty yards from end to end, with only two street openings-the entrance Merselus had taken, and the exit at the opposite end, which fed into a Metromover station. Andie spotted just one streetlight about halfway down, but it was burned out. The moonlight did little more than create confusing shadows in what seemed like a black tunnel. Slowly, Andie’s eyes adjusted, and the alley’s transformation from mere shadows to recognizable objects began. Keeping close to the wall and her gun at the ready, Andie entered with caution. She was ten feet into the darkness when she stopped and listened.
A siren wailed in the distance. Multiple sirens. Backup was on the way. But by the time they arrived, Merselus might be long gone.
Leading with her gun, crouched in the marksman pose, she stepped deeper into the darkness, one tentative step at a time. Bars covered the windows and doors that faced the alley, blocking off escape routes, telling her that Merselus was still somewhere in the alley. She heard a noise from behind the Dumpster. Quickly, without making a sound, she moved to the wall, took cover behind a telephone pole, and waited. Her heart pounded. The sirens in the distance grew louder. Suddenly, a squad car pulled up and blocked the opposite end of the alley. Flashes of amber from the police beacon bathed the dark alley, and Andie could hear the MDPD officer key the loudspeaker.
“Police! Put your hands up and-”
A barrage of gunfire echoed in the alley-Merselus’ response to the police command. With his intended escape route blocked by a squad car, his only way out was to turn around and exit the way both he and Andie had entered. Merselus continued firing at the police as he pivoted and ran down the alley-away from the squad car and toward Andie.
“FBI, freeze!” Andie shouted.
Merselus was squarely in her sights until, suddenly, she couldn’t see anything-not for the darkness, but for the burst of brightness from a police spotlight. It was from the same squad car that had sealed off the end of the alley and had sent Merselus running toward her. He was still coming at her, and the blinding beam of white light stretched like a laser all the way down the alley from the squad car, hitting him in the back and Andie squarely in the face. On the run, Merselus turned his fire in Andie’s direction. Andie had some protection behind the telephone pole, but the spotlight robbed her of any serious ability to hide. Chunks of the wood pole splintered off as Merselus fired without pause at the only law enforcement officer between him and his escape.