Bad Guys

“Gotcha.”

I could hear him ru

“See my car?”

“Yeah. Shit, it’s all in pieces.”

“It’s mostly the inside door panels. Don’t worry about that. See if the keys are in it.”

“Hang on, yeah, they’re here.”

“See if it’ll start.”

I listened. The Virtue was so quiet, I wasn’t sure I’d hear it come on even if it did. “No, it won’t.”

I could hear my heart pounding in my temples. “Turn the key ahead, move the shifter back and forth a couple times, try it again.”

I heard some noise in the background. “Okay, it’s on. You’re a genius.”

I let out a breath. “Just leave it ru

“Just a minute. Okay, yeah, I think this is it. Yep, the garage door is going up.”

“I want you to back the Virtue out, get it turned around in the driveway, leave the engine ru

“You don’t want me to drive?”

“I’ll drive. Can you do everything I’ve asked?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll leave my phone on but put it in my pocket for a sec. Stay on the line.”

“Okay.” To Angie, I said, “We’re leaving, honey. We’re getting out of here in just a few seconds.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she said. “Did I hear right, is Trevor out there?”

“Yeah.”

“That little weasel, putting that fucking thing in my coat.”

“Why don’t we get angry with him about it later, after he saves our lives?”

“I suppose.” She grabbed her coat, slinging it over her arm so she could still keep the gun on Bullock.

“Mr. Walker?”

I held the phone back up to my ear. “Yeah.”

“I’m all set to go here. Run out, hop in the driver’s seat, and we’re off.”

“Good man,” I said. “We’ll be right out.” I slipped the phone into my jacket. “We’re going to be on our way, guys.” I pointed to Pockmark, the dark stain on his trousers getting even larger. “I think you should see about getting this one to a doctor.”

I motioned Angie toward the door. “You go first,” I said. “Get in the car.”

She slid by me and out the door. I heard her run down the hall, through the kitchen, then a door open and close.

“Get under the desk,” I said to Bullock. He scrunched down and got under. Then I told Blondie to do the same. He had some difficulty jamming himself under there with his boss.

Then I ran.

I was out the house door in a second. The Virtue was sitting there, right where it was supposed to be, Trevor and Angie in the back, plus Morpheus, jumping around the backseat and into the front. The driver’s door was left open, and I hopped in, threw the car into drive, and pressed the accelerator, knocking Morpheus, who was without doubt one of the ugliest dogs I’d ever seen, off his feet and into the back of the front bucket. The car jerked to a start, and we were flying down the sloped driveway so quickly the car’s front underpan slammed into the street as we turned onto it.

I caught a glimpse of Trevor, the strap of his laptop case looped over his shoulder, in my mirror and saw that he was turned around, looking behind us.

“They’re coming!” he said. “Two of them! They’re ru

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Angie said as I swerved to avoid hitting a station wagon I’d just cut off.

“It’s okay,” Trevor said to her softly. “It’s going to be okay.” Morpheus bounded into the backseat and licked Trevor in the face.

We were nearing the end of Wyndham, and in my mirror I saw headlights sweeping down to the end of the Bullock house driveway. The A

I glanced back. Angie looked pale. “I really need some air,” she said. “I gotta put down a window or I’m go

It was true. When they’d taken the inside door panels off to search for drugs, they’d removed the power window controls. But there was still a button on the dash for the sunroof, and I opened it. “How’s that?” I asked.

“Better,” she said.

“Trevor,” I said. “Call 911.”

“Yeah.” He had his phone out and was about to punch in the numbers when I hung a hard right at an intersection, tossing my passengers-human and canine-about. “You might try to get your seat belts on if you get a chance,” I advised.

“Here,” Trevor said to Angie, “I’ll get yours.” And he leaned across, grabbed the belt from above her shoulder, and secured it. Then he did his own. “I’m calling them now,” he said. Morpheus was in Angie’s lap now, looking like maybe he was going to have a nap.

I didn’t have a destination in mind. I just wanted to get away.

The A

Trevor, craning his head around every few seconds, said, “They’re gaining.”

I leaned on the gas, but the hybrid didn’t take off the way I might have hoped. The SUV was closing the distance.

“Is this the police?” Trevor said into his phone. “We’re being chased by some people who want to kill us! Uh, we’re in a silver Virtue, going north on-” He looked around. “Where are we?” he shouted.

I wasn’t sure. I knew about as much as Trevor did, that we were heading north.

“I’m not sure. But look for a silver car being chased by a black SUV. There’s two men in it and they’re-”

We were hit from behind. The A

And then they were shooting at us.

“He’s got a gun!” Trevor shouted. “Like a machine gun or something!”

“Get down!” I shouted, and Trevor threw his arm around Angie and forced her head below the bottom of the rear window.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her again. “I’m going to take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

There were more shots, a pop-pop-pop-pop. All our windows were still intact, but I thought I’d heard at least one bullet strike the trunk or back bumper.

I rounded a corner, the tires shifting and slipping on some streetcar tracks. Up ahead, a late-night streetcar taking people home after the bars had closed was rolling along. I swung out to the left, passing it in the opposite lane. I glanced in my mirror and the A

I hit the brakes. The A

The thing was, my car was no match for it, not unless Bullock and Blondie ran out of gas. Driving the vehicle that got better mileage didn’t count for much at the moment. It wasn’t like I could take this chase off the streets. Off-road I’d have even less chance of getting away from that four-wheel-drive monster.

Ahead, I saw some familiar buildings. I was starting to get my bearings. We were coming up on Mackenzie University and its historic, grand structures.