Czajkowski moved fast. I thanked Dalton, hung up, and went back to dusting. McGlade hit the horn again, and I heard someone scream.
“Old lady,” Harry said. “I think I missed her. Mostly.”
“McGlade, you need to-”
“Turning onto Pratt. It’s going to be tight. Hold on.”
The truck smacked into two parked cars-sending them off into opposite directions as if they were toys-jumping the curb and screeching onto the asphalt, beelining for an office building straight ahead. McGlade wrestled with the steering wheel, and we kissed the brick wall, pulled past, and then straightened out onto the street.
“Okay, I’m going to turn onto Hamlin. Get ready to shift. Ready?”
I had turned my attention back to the latent on the mirror. The eye shadow wasn’t fingerprint powder, but it had done a fair job clinging to the oils and making the ridges stand out.
“Jackie! You with me?”
“Yeah, Harry. Say when.”
“Okay, gas… clutch… neutral… shit!”
Ahead of us on Hamlin was a gridlock of cars, none of them moving.
McGlade hit the brakes, and the tires squealed, but the truck groaned and didn’t slow down.
“The hand brake!” he yelled, his claw bouncing off the stick.
I looked out the side window and watched, horrified, as the trailer kicked out to the side and the truck began to jackknife.
CHAPTER 39
6 MINUTES
SERGEANT HERB BENEDICT, gun in hand, jogs up the sidewalk, past one idling car after another. His own car is pinned between three others, impossible to drive. The streets are jammed, and nothing is moving. It’s like all of Skokie has become a giant parking lot.
He’s looking for a car, any car, that isn’t trapped, but even the intersections are completely congested. A hundred horns are sounding off around him, coupled with angry shouts. He’s still two miles away from the treatment plant, and if he doesn’t find a vehicle quickly, Jack and McGlade are going to die. In McGlade’s case, it’s no big loss. But Jack is like a sister.
Switching to Robbery had been the hardest thing Herb had ever done. He felt like he was betraying, and abandoning, his best friend. He had hoped that Jack would recognize how ridiculously dangerous their job had become, and would follow him. But she didn’t.
She keeps on risking her life for the Job, Herb thought, and here I am, yet again, running toward danger rather than away from it, to try and save her life.
An engine, behind him. He stops and turns, sees a car has gotten sick of the traffic and driven onto the sidewalk. Something older and sporty, a Challenger or a GTO. Perfect. Herb tucks his 9mm into his hip holster and holds up his badge. He can commandeer this car and-
The car accelerates. The driver either doesn’t see him or doesn’t care. Herb yells, but his voice isn’t audible above all of the honking. He realizes the car is going to hit him, and he tries to step to the side.
At the last possible moment, the car swerves right, but it isn’t fast enough, and the back end clips Herb and sends him spinning into a storefront window. He bounces off the glass and slams onto the pavement, where he lies, unmoving, in a growing pool of blood.
CHAPTER 40
5 MINUTES
“PUT IT IN GEAR!” McGlade screamed, an octave higher than his normal voice. I helped him tug the shifter into second, and the cab shook and then jolted forward. Behind us, the trailer rocked from side to side, but quickly straightened out. This saved us from jackknifing, but didn’t save us from the line of cars fifty yards ahead and closing.
He tugged the wheel to the right, forcing the truck up onto the carefully maintained lawn of an office complex. Harry continued to turn, winding up behind the building in the back parking lot, heading straight for a fence.
“McGlade…”
“Don’t worry. I do this all the time in Grand Theft Auto.”
“That’s a video game.”
“Pac-Man is a video game. GTA is a way of life.”
The semi plowed through the fence with almost no resistance, and then we were in a factory loading area.
“Gear down on three. One… two… three.”
I helped him shift into first, and the truck slowed down, allowing McGlade to navigate a sharp turn. We bounced over a curb and wound up on Morse going east. I looked at the countdown clock and felt ill. We were still over a mile away from the treatment plant and heading in the wrong direction.
“Train tracks ahead,” Harry said. “I have an idea.”
McGlade swung the truck left, and we ran parallel to the tracks on the gravel. There was a slight grade, maybe five percent, but the truck didn’t tip.
“Let’s go to second… now.”
The truck picked up speed, and I listened to the RPMs and was able to gauge when to put it into third, and then fourth. The ride was bumpy, and tilted, but we were making good time, and there were no cars blocking our way. McGlade hummed the song “Convoy,” off-key. I once again turned my attention to the latent on the mirror.
“Gimme your phone,” I told him.
“My new one? Why?”
“Just do it.”
“It’s in my right pants pocket. Help yourself.”
I reached for his lap, then hesitated. It was like willfully sticking your hand into a mousetrap. Not having any other choice, I slipped a finger in, shuddering.
“It’s at the bottom. Reach around for it.”
I was about to go deeper when I realized the obvious.
“How could you put anything in your right pocket with a mechanical hand?”
He smiled, sheepish.
“Caught me. It’s in my jacket.”
I muttered asshole under my breath and quickly found the high-tech phone in his jacket.
“How do I use the camera?”
“Go to the menu first.”
I stared at the device, which looked slightly more complicated than the helm of a nuclear submarine.
“Is this a touch screen?”
“There’s a menu button in the center of the keypad.”
“What’s it look like?”
“It looks like the menu button. It says menu on it.”
“There are six thousand buttons.”
“Give it to me.”
“Harry, keep your eyes on the-”
The wheels caught on the tracks and hopped them, jerking the whole truck to the right. We hit one railroad tie after another in rapid succession, each feeling like it would rip us apart.
“Downshift!” McGlade screamed, while he reached lefty for the hand brake. I fought the ball knob into neutral, then tried to steady the wheel as we slowed down, and finally stalled.
I checked my mirror, and miraculously the trailer was still attached.
“Look.” Harry tore the phone from my hand and pressed something. “There’s the damn menu button. Happy now?”
“I’d be happier if we got moving. We’ve only got-”
A whistle cut me off. It was followed by a familiar ding ding ding sound, coming from the intersection up ahead.
“No way,” Harry said. “No fucking way.”
I squinted into the distance and saw the small black dot of a train.
CHAPTER 41
4 MINUTES
“START THE TRUCK, MCGLADE.”
“You think?”
I cursed myself for not telling Jim to also stop all train traffic, but hindsight is always 20/20. Harry stuck his butt in my face and bent under the steering column, fussing with the wires.
“It was brown, right?”
“Yeah, touch the brown to the red.”
“It’s too dark. They’re all brown. Hold on.”