Nora groaned something that sounded like an affirmative.
“Those gyros, they’ve landed by the panel truck.” Dodge glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t know what they’re up to, but…”
“Better find out. I’ll be along as I’m able.”
Dodge nodded and then lurched into motion. He felt unsteady on his feet, punch-drunk, but once he got moving, his forward momentum kept him upright. Unfortunately, between him and his goal lay the massive crater, stretching across the entire street. The only way past it was to go around, and even that was easier said than done.
The sidewalk on the right was still more or less intact, save for a five-foot section that had collapsed into the pit. There, the concrete had cracked apart, with some jagged portions protruding like broken teeth from the underlying earth, but directly next to that, the twisted remains of an overturned automobile presented an impassable barrier. Getting over that gap would require either a jump worthy of an Olympic decathlete, or the skills of a world-class mountain climber. Dodge was neither, but decided that in his current state, climbing was the safer option. Using the broken sidewalk pieces like stepping stones and the undercarriage of the wrecked car like rungs on a ladder, he started across the void.
He had just reached the far side when he heard the engines on the autogyros rev up. A moment later, they were both airborne, and before he could get both feet on solid ground, the two aircraft had already disappeared beyond the skyline. In the stark silence that followed, he could hear the distant sound of sirens — police cars and fire engines, he surmised. A sick, sinking feeling that had nothing to do with pummeling he had received from collisions and more explosions then he could remember, settled over him.
He felt a little steadier on his feet as he dashed across the intervening distance and plunged without hesitation into the back of the delivery truck. Its emptiness left him stunned, and for a moment he feared that the hostages had been thrown from the vehicle. He drew back, looking for them, dreading the moment when he might find their shattered bodies, but there was no sign at all of his friend.
“They took them,” he whispered. The autogyros had landed for the sole purpose of absconding with the two captives. Why? That didn’t matter nearly as much to Dodge as the next logical conclusion. “They’re alive!”
A noise, like someone groaning, issued from the cab of the truck and he hastened over, ready to confront the surviving kidnappers. The door had sprung open, revealing the driver and sole occupant of the truck.
“You!” Dodge recognized the driver immediately; it was the statuesque blond he had noticed in the Clarion newsroom. Curiously, she reacted to him with equal surprise, and then grimaced against the pain caused by the steering wheel that been crushed into her legs. Dodge understood now that she had been the lookout, scouting ahead to identify which room to attack; wherever Dodge went, Newcombe would be waiting. He wondered if the two masked bombers had intended to grab him, and gotten Lafayette by mistake. He leaned close to the woman. “Where did they take him?”
She winced. “Who?”
“Those autogyros that were following you. They landed and took them both.”
The woman craned her head around, as if to visually confirm what Dodge was saying, but pinned as she was, the effort yielded nothing. Finally she sighed, sinking back into her chair resignedly. When she spoke, Dodge noticed a thick, eastern European accent. “I know where they will take your friend. I can take you to him, but you must help me.”
“Help you?” As he said it, Dodge realized that the sirens were getting closer, and that bewildered survivors were venturing from the ruins of their stores and homes to investigate.
“We did not want to hurt your friend. We did not want to hurt anyone. We were trying to protect him from…from them.”
“From the men with the autogyros?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Why do they want him?” Dodge persisted.
The woman shook her head, just once. “Please. If you do not help me, I will not be able to help you.”
Dodge felt the urgency of her request. When the police arrived, he would be obligated to explain her role in the bombing at the Clarion Building and ultimately the destruction of a city block, albeit accidentally, and all of that in connection with the kidnapping of two men who had been kidnapped again by an unknown third party. Perhaps she would tell the police the secret that she now offered Dodge, perhaps not, but it was abundantly clear that she did know who was behind the second abduction.
He reached out and curled his hands around the steering wheel. “What’s your name?”
“Anya.”
“Well, Anya. This is probably going to hurt. A lot.”
Without further comment, he braced one foot against the door frame and hauled back on the steering wheel with all his might. It didn’t budge.
“Need a hand, pardner?”
Dodge looked back and saw Hurricane and Nora approaching, the former favoring his right leg and the latter, improbably, wedged under his arm as if trying to assist him.
“What’s wrong with your leg?”
“It’s my fault,” Nora volunteered, her face creased with guilt. “I was holding onto him when we crashed, and I guess I squeezed too hard.”
“I’ll mend.” Hurricane glanced past him at Anya. “What’s the story here?”
Dodge gave him the briefest possible account of what he had been told. “I still don’t know if I trust her, but she’s our only lead.”
The big man nodded, then gently moved Dodge aside. He wrapped one hand around the steering wheel and grabbed the doorpost with the other, and using what looked like hardly any effort at all, he bent the wheel away from Anya’s legs. The blonde gave a little whimper of pain, but then seemed to almost melt in relief as pressure abated.
“Can you walk?” Dodge asked.
“I’ll manage.” She swung her legs out of the cab, but as soon as she tried to put any weight on them, the grimace returned.
“I’m not so sure about that.” Dodge reached down and got an arm around her, lifting her up and holding her in much the same way that Nora was attempting to assist Hurley.
“Go, Dodge,” Hurricane told him. “Get her out of here.”
“You’re not coming?”
“I’ll stay here and keep the cops off your tail. I’m afraid I’m the kind of guy people notice, and if I go with you, they’ll find us lickety-split.”
Nora glanced between the two men. “What about me?”
“Better stay with me,” Hurley announced. “Dodge Dalton in the company of two lovely young ladies would be positively scandalous.”
Under any other circumstances, his comment would have earned polite chuckles at the very least, but just now it seemed nothing but pragmatic. “He’s right.”
Nora made no attempt to hide her disappointment, but crossed her arms and made a pouting noise.
“Come now, Miss Holloway,” Hurricane chided. “I’m not such bad company.”
“I’ll try to get to the office at the Empire State Building. It’s only a few blocks. As soon as you get free, you can drive over and…” Dodge trailed off as he remembered what had happened to Hurley’s beloved red Speedster. “Oh, Hurricane, your car. I’m so sorry.”
“Spilt milk, Dodge.” Hurley’s voice was steady, but Dodge could tell his stoic facade was being maintained only through a monumental effort of will. “I’ll rebuild her, or buy a new one. It’s just a thing. Now, get going.”
The survivors of the chase were all acutely aware of being observed by the local residents who were now beginning to poke their heads out of the rubble, but they had no idea that they were also being watched intently by a group of men who had emerged from a sedan parked more than a block behind the broken remains of Hurley’s car. Under ordinary circumstances, these four men would have automatically attracted the attention of locals, even in the cosmopolitan environment of Midtown, but given the events that had only just transpired, they might just as well have been invisible.