Nocturnal

Pedal to the Metal

Adam wasn’t driving like a grandfather anymore.

He didn’t seem to give a shit about other cars, the Magnum’s finish, traffic lights or even pedestrians. A few days ago, this kind of driving would have made Bryan want to throw Adam’s ass in jail. Now he wished Adam could be even more reckless, cut off a few more cars, drive just a little faster.

Aggie was still handcuffed to the front passenger-seat door. The guy spent most of his time staring at the handcuffs.

Adam raced the souped-up Magnum down Twenty-First Street, moving into the left lane to pass whenever the opportunity presented itself. The engine’s roar echoed off the buildings on either side, playing off the tinny squawk of a police radio mounted in the dash.

The Magnum hit a pothole; Bryan flinched from a deep sting in his gums.

“Bryan,” Alder said, “sit still!”

“I’m trying,” Bryan said, or at least he tried to say it — he wasn’t sure what words actually came out of his wide-open mouth. Alder sat next to Bryan in the rear seat. He had to stitch Bryan’s torn gums together before he moved on to the ripped cheek. Blood covered the old man’s surgical gloves.

There might be more action coming. Alder had wanted to stop so he could fix Bryan’s wounds. Bryan told the old man to do the work en route — every bump in the road, every swerve or sudden braking brought more pain from the needle, but Bryan didn’t care.

“One more,” Alder said. He leaned in, then pulled the needle back. “Done. Now for the cheek, then we have to do the collarbone. It will refuse in the next fifteen minutes or so. If it heals wrong, we’ll just have to rebreak it anyway.”

Alder opened a kit mounted in the back of the front passenger seat. He pulled out a device Bryan didn’t recognize and started prepping it.

“Hey, cop,” Adam called from the front seat. “Bad news. Police band just said there’s a BOLO out for you. They’re saying you killed those two SWAT guys.”

That dirty bitch. Zou wanted Bryan so bad she’d instantly framed him for the murder of two men. Every cop in the city would be gunning for him. His brief moment of believing Amy Zou was doing the right thing? Bryan had been a fool, and now everyone was paying the price for it.

He closed his eyes, tried to manage the pain radiating through his body. The coat had stopped the shotgun slugs, but like Adam had warned, it didn’t stop all of the kinetic energy. Bryan’s back throbbed. His right arm hurt almost as bad as his left. He tried to store up the pain, file it away — he’d return it with interest when he got his hands on Rex Deprovdechuk.

Bryan’s phone buzzed. A text — the message made his chest lock up.

ROBIN HUDSON: SOMEONE IS IN MY APARTMENT. CAME IN ON FIRE ESCAPE. PLEASE HURRY!

He started to dial her number, then stopped. She’d texted, not called, which meant she didn’t want to make any noise. What if he called and she didn’t have her phone on vibrate?

“Adam, how long?”

“Five minutes,” the younger Jessup called back.

Bryan texted:

HANG TIGHT, I’M ALMOST THERE.

Alder finished prepping. Now Bryan recognized the device: a power stapler.

Bryan turned his head, offering up his torn cheek, and let Alder get to work.