Stark moves like a robot, joints stiff, head down, scanning the road. Alex waits behind the open door of the cruiser, one hand aiming the Sig, the other aiming the Maglite.
The closer Stark gets to the Honda, the slower she becomes. At this rate, the sun will be up before the car explodes.
“Let’s pick up the pace, Officer Stark. I’m hoping to get laid to night. You find the fuse?”
Stark mumbles something, the words lost in the night.
“Crouch lower,” Alex says. “It’s a skinny pink fuse.”
Another mumble. Alex aims, fires a round over Stark’s head, close enough for her to feel the wind. The cop drops to the ground.
“That’s what I mean. Keep looking.”
Another minute passes, along with three rubberneckers. One slows down enough to maybe see that things aren’t right. The radio squawks again.
“Five Victor Seven, what’s your twenty? Over.”
Alex doesn’t know radio call signals. And she can’t trust Officer Stark to give her the correct response. She chooses to ignore it, hoping to get out of there shortly.
“See the fuse?” Alex calls to Stark, who is now on all fours next to the Honda, shaking so bad she looks like a wet dog.
“No.”
“Check underneath, by the gas tank.”
Stark doesn’t budge. Alex shoots out the tire Stark is crouching next to, the pop almost as loud as the gunfire.
“I hate repeating myself, Val.”
“Five Victor Seven, status.”
Goddamn radio. Alex opens the front door, grabs the hand mike.
“Just finishing up here, Central. Computer problems.”
She tosses the mike back inside, and notices Officer Stark is under the car. But there’s a faint blue light under there with her.
The bitch has a cell phone. Probably one of those ultra-thin models for Alex to have missed it in the pat down.
“Five Victor Seven, do you have a 10-86? Over.”
Dammit. Alex figures she said something wrong, which means another patrol car will cruise by any minute. She needs to get out of here, pronto.
“Throw away the phone, Val!”
Alex fires two rounds into the trunk of the car. The cop can’t drop the phone fast enough, and it skitters across the pavement.
“Now grab the plastic explosive I put on the gas tank!”
Val cowers, hands covering her head, as if that will protect her from a forty-five-caliber bullet.
Alex takes a deep, calming breath, then exits the vehicle.
“I’m going to count to three. If I don’t see the plastic in your hand, your children will grow up without a mother. One…two…”
Officer Stark holds up the PENO.
“Good. Now run back here. Move it, double time.”
Stark half jogs/half stumbles to the squad car. Her face is wet.
“Gimme the plastic, and get in the backseat. Close the door behind you.”
The cop follows orders. Alex studies the PENO. The fuse has fallen out. Alex frowns with half of her face. She places the PENO on the passenger seat.
“Now take your clothes off, Officer Stark.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so. Faster would be better. If you follow directions, you’ll live through this.”
She uncuffs her and Officer Stark strips. Alex enjoys the show. From experience, she knows how difficult it is to undress a body. It’s much easier, and quicker, when they undress themselves.
“Underwear too. This is just so you won’t be able to follow me.”
Alex gives Officer Stark credit for not losing it. There are tears, but no begging or sobbing. Tough broad. Not a bad body either.
“Very good, Officer Stark. Now I want you to get into the Honda. I’m going to leave you there.”
Alex opens the door, checks for cars, then marches the cop to the Honda. Moving bodies is an even bigger pain in the ass than undressing them. Much easier to let them move themselves.
“Sit in the driver’s seat, put your hands out.”
Alex tucks the gun into her waistband. Naked, the cop has lost the will to fight back. It takes a few seconds to uncuff one of her wrists, then attach it to the steering wheel.
“Are you afraid, Val?”
Officer Stark stares hard at Alex.
“Yes. But I’m controlling it.”
“Good. Good for you. Are your children proud of you? That their mother is a cop?”
Stark nods.
“They should be.”
Alex hurries back to the squad car, picks up the PENO and two feet of thermalite fuse. Dispatch comes on the radio. Alex switches it off, concentrating on inserting the fuse into the blasting cap. Once she’s satisfied it won’t fall out, she returns to the Honda, stopping once to pick up Officer Stark’s cell phone.
“Normally I savor things like this, Val, but I’m short on time.”
Alex takes the cigarette lighter from her pocket, and leans across Stark to press it into the outlet.
“I’m using a forty-second fuse. I won’t light it until your call goes through. Forty seconds probably isn’t long enough to say goodbye to your kids, but it’s an unfair world.”
Alex hands Stark the phone. She looks deep into the cop’s eyes, sees it all. Disbelief. Realization. Anger. Despair. Acceptance. Out of everyone Alex has killed today, this is the most memorable. Too bad she can’t stick around to watch her face during the final moments.
The lighter pops out.
“Call home, Val.”
Val’s hands are shaking so badly she has to dial three times. Finally, she gets a connection.
“Honey? It’s Mommy.”
Alex caresses Val’s hair. Then she lights the fuse and tosses the PENO under the Honda.
As she walks back to the patrol car, Alex wonders what she would do with only a few seconds left to live. What would she say?
Nothing. She’d say nothing, because she doesn’t have anyone to call.
The explosion is loud, and rattles the police car, but there is no huge pyrotechnic fireball like on television. The car burns, but it’s a small fire, won’t last long.
Alex hits the siren and peels out. Mission accomplished. On to the next goal.
CHAPTER 19
THE CRIMEBAGO ACCELERATED with the speed and grace of a three-legged elephant, blowing through a red light and prompting a honking frenzy from all four corners of the intersection. Harry alternated between steering and punching buttons on the dashboard CD changer. I gave him a friendly tap on the back of the head to keep him focused.
“What the hell are you doing, McGlade? Watch the damn road!”
“I’m looking for car chase music.”
“I’ll do it. Pay attention to driving.”
“Find Steppenwolf. It’s disc five or six.”
I pressed some random buttons, and Pink Floyd came on again.
“Too mellow!” McGlade yelled, jerking the wheel left and turning onto Halsted. I fell into the passenger seat, and Phin appeared and punched off the stereo.
“Is there a door to the roof?”
“Skylight opens. Latch is above the sofa. Why’d you kill the tunes?”
“Pull up next to a bus, then slow down and let them get close.”
“You want to jump from the Crimebago to a bus?”
“Yeah.”
“Motorhead would be perfect for that. I think it’s disc eight.”
Harry fussed with buttons. Phin locked eyes with me and said, “Make sure he does what I told him.”
“I’m going with you.”
It was slight, but he still smirked. It annoyed me. I shoved Phin to the side, grabbed a walkie-talkie, and turned it on.
Then the RV exploded, a deafening thunderclap that made my knees buckle.
“SACRIFICE! PAY THE PRICE!”
No, not an explosion. Harry had found the Motorhead CD.
I clawed my way up to the cockpit and smacked it off.
“I’m the driver, dammit! I pick the music!”
“Focus, McGlade. Get next to a bus and make sure the Feebies are right behind you, then come to a stop. They won’t be able to see up onto the roof if they’re hugging the bumper.”
Harry reached for the stereo. I smacked his fake hand.