Stephen Cannell - The Tin Collector

"Hold my back," he said, then ran down the concrete tunnel. When he got to the end, he tried the door. It was unlocked.

He pushed it open and found himself looking at Chooch and Longboard. They were blindfolded, gagged, and handcuffed to pipes in a small room that contained three giant water heaters. Shane ripped the blindfold off Chooch, then pulled the wadding out of his mouth. "You okay?"

"Shane," the boy said; tears started flowing from his eyes. "I knew you'd come…"

"Shhhh…" Shane said. As Brian umphz d behind his gag, Shane checked Chooch's handcuffs before quickly turning and removing Brian Kelly's blindfold and fishing the gag out of his mouth.

"Shit, am I glad to see you," Longboard said weakly.

"You guys okay?"

"I guess," Longboard said. "Frickin' scared, but okay."

"Stay quiet. I'll be right back. Gotta get a key for those cuffs. They look like standard LAPD issue."

Shane sprinted back up the ramp to the dungeon room, where Alexa was guarding the hallway.

"They're down there. They look all right. I need your cuff key."

She reached to her belt, pulled it off, and handed it to him.

Shane hurried back to the heater room and unhooked both sets of cuffs.

"How many guys are here? How many guns?" Shane whispered.

"There's about four guys who are packing," Brian said.

"Shane, that movie producer is here," Chooch said. "He owns the place."

"That kink didn't put you on any of those tables up there, did he?" Shane asked.

"No. They just cuffed us to those pipes," Brian said. "Seems like we been here almost two days."

"Okay, listen up. We're on our way out. There's a woman with me. She's an LAPD sergeant. Once we're out of this dungeon, I'll go first, she'll bring up the rear. Stay close. Don't make any noise. What I want to do here is just disappear. I don't wanna fight our way out." Shane's words echoed softly against the walls of the stone room.

He led Brian and Chooch up the corridor, rejoining Alexa. Silently they retraced their footsteps out of the dungeon and back into the connecting hallway. Shane paused by the door, looking into the billiards room. It was still deserted, so he pushed the door open and they headed out across the tile floor, past the suits of armor, and back to the laundry room at the far end of the house.

They slipped inside; then Shane locked the door and turned to Alexa. "You're first. Once you're out there, scout both sides. We need a good exit line."

"Got it," she said.

He put his hands around her slender waist and lifted her up to the open window. She grabbed the ledge and shimmied out. She was amazingly light, which surprised him. Her intellectual weight had become so huge, it didn't seem possible that her physical weight was only 115 pounds.

Next he lifted Chooch. Once the boy was out of the window, Shane turned to Longboard and cupped his hands. "Hop aboard. You're outta here."

Longboard stepped in, and Shane boosted him out the window. Then Shane grabbed the ledge and pulled himself up and out onto the wet grass.

The cold, moist lake air filled his nostrils as he regained his feet and looked at all of them.

"Somebody just pulled in. They're in a truck in the drive. There're people in the big front room now. They'll see us moving across the grass," Alexa said. "Our best bet outta here is that speedboat. We need keys, but if they aren't in the boat, we could get trapped down there on the dock, out in the open."

"Don't need keys," Chooch whispered bravely. "I'll hot-wire it. Car theft is my Vato specialty."

"Okay then, that's the plan," Shane whispered. "Alexa, you look for the keys. If they're not aboard, Chooch, you get it going. Brian, you're on lines. I'll hold the back door and lay down cover fire if we get spotted. Everybody straight?"

They nodded, their faces grim.

"Okay let's do it."

They slipped away from the house, staying close to the west side of the property, moving like shadows against the fence line.

They finally got to a spot where, in order to reach the dock, they had to make a final dash across an open stretch of moonlit lawn. They huddled down in the dark and checked the house. There were a few people visible in the windows. Nobody was on the porch.

"This is as good as it's gonna get. Let's go," Shane whispered.

They started running in a group. They moved fast and low, across the open area, but quickly spread out. Alexa, the sprinter, took the lead, with Shane a few steps behind. Chooch and Long-board were losing ground. They all finally reached the pier and headed out to the dock.

"Who's out there?!" a male voice yelled from the house.

"It's blown. Move it! Move it!" Shane shouted. He was out on the small dock, standing by the ramp leading down to the float, motioning to Chooch and Longboard, windmilling his arms, trying to get them to go faster. They ran by him heading for the boat.

Now all but Shane were on the boat.

Alexa was looking for the keys when Chooch and Longboard got aboard.

"No key in the ignition," Alexa shouted. She was pulling the engine cover up, looking for a key on a hook inside, when the first shot rang out. The bullet pinged off the top of the concrete piling next to Shane's head, then whined angrily away into the night.

Shane, still holding his position on the dock, fired blindly up at the house. He couldn't see anyone, so he popped only one cap firing for effect turned, and ran to the boat.

Chooch was under the dash pulling out ignition wires, and Longboard ducked down low in the backseat. As Shane jumped into the boat, two more shots rang out from the sloping lawn. One of the bullets thudded into the boat's hull. Alexa pulled her pistol and returned fire.

"Save your rounds!" Shane yelled. "Unless you can see 'em, don't fire."

Suddenly the boat engine started, and Chooch backed out from under the dash. Longboard came up from his hiding place and started throwing off lines.

They could now see two men running down toward the dock. Both stopped halfway out on the wooden pier, aimed their pistols, and fired down from a position of advantage. Shane felt a bullet tug at the sleeve of his sport coat. He dropped into the seat behind the wheel and slammed the throttle all the way forward.

The Chris-Craft roared away from the dock amidst a hail of gunfire. He heard Alexa's Beretta bark near his left ear, then the distant sound of return fire from the dock.

"Shit," she said, and dropped onto the seat beside him. He glanced over at her, alarmed.

"I took one," Alexa said, looking at her side. She couldn't see the blood in the moonlight because of the dark turtleneck.

"How bad?" Shane shouted over the roar of the engine.

She pulled up her shirt and checked the wound. "Looks like a through and through. The right oblique. Just drive. If I start fading, I'll let you know," she shouted.

They heard two more shots, but they were distant popping sounds. One bullet ricocheted off the metal windshield, and then they were out of range.

Longboard and Chooch were lying prone on the backseat. "Did we make it?" Longboard asked tentatively as he sat up.

Shane looked back at the dock, a receding structure in the distance.

"They're out of range," he said. All of them had wide smiles on their faces. It was a well-known police axiom that nothing is more exhilarating than being fired on without serious result.

The little speedboat streaked across the lake, its metal-tipped bow parting the moonlit water, leaving a frothy, expanding wake behind them as they headed toward the lights of Arrowhead Village two miles away.

"We've gotta get to a place where Sheriff Conklyn won't panic making the arrest. Someplace out in the open. I don't want one of his trigger-happy deputies ruining this perfect rescue," Shane shouted to Alexa over the wind and engine noise.