James Patterson - Double Cross

“And female ?”

“I think so. Could be a disguise.”

When I reached the next corner, the suspect was already more than halfway down a long corridor, running toward the exit at the far end.

“Police! Stop! Stop right there !” I shouted at her, and I had my gun out too.

Whoever she was, she didn’t even look around as she slammed through the door. It swung back hard, then burst into an opaque web of broken glass.

“East parking lot!” I told Bree and Sampson. “She’s outside! She’s running! It’s a woman!”

A STRONG WOMAN TOO! She’d completely shattered the door on the way out. What kind of woman was that? A very angry one? A crazy lady? A collaborator with DCAK or another copycat?

Pellets of glass showered around me as I pushed through the exit door. Where the hell was she now ? I didn’t see her anywhere outside. No one running.

A few streetlamps overhead left plenty of shadow around the narrow parking lot. The row of cars directly opposite me showed no sign of life, though.

On my left, the pavement ended abruptly and gave way to an empty stretch of lawn.

Then I heard a sports-car engine fire up. The revving noise came from somewhere off to my right. I stared hard into the semidarkness.

Headlights blinked on, then two shining eyes came right at me. Fast !

My Glock was still out, and I figured I had time for at least one shot. I squeezed the trigger. A bullet punctured the car’s windshield with a pock sound. The speeding vehicle kept coming. Right at me! I dove and hit the hotel wall, then rolled onto the asphalt. Banged the hell out of my shoulder and my chin.

I fired another shot. A taillight shattered. It was a small coupe, I saw now. A blue Miata. A neighbor of mine had one, and I recognized the size and shape.

The fast-moving car hopped the curb, then bounced forward into the street.

Then it stopped abruptly! A taxi’s tires squealed on the pavement. The cab had just missed nailing the coupe. Inches from total destruction. And capture !

By the time I was on my feet and running, the blue sports car had taken off again.

My badge was out, and I threw open the taxi driver’s door. “Police! I need your cab.”

All the cabbie saw was my gun, but I guess it was enough for him. He was out of his seat immediately, hands held in the air. “Take it!”

The taxi was a V-6. Good, I’d probably need all of that. I clicked off the radio and AC to funnel extra power.

“Alex? Where the hell are you?” Bree’s voice sounded in my ear, faint against the straining engine of the cab.

“In pursuit, I hope. West on O’Donnell,” I called out. “I’m chasing a dark-blue Miata. Maryland plates. One taillight out. I’m looking at it right now. Female driver-though she’s big enough to be a man. Strong enough too.”

“Maybe it’s a man in women’s clothes. He likes to play roles.”

“Yes, he does. But I think this really is a woman. We have to get her!”

The coupe shot past the ramp for I-95 and straight through another intersection. The driver was doing at least seventy-and accelerating.

“Bree, if you can hear me, we’re both going west on O’Donnell. You copy?”

“Okay, Alex. Still got you. We’re on it, on our way. What else do you need?”

“Shit!” I yelled. “Shit!”

“What?” Bree yelled back.

I swerved to miss a yellow VW Bug as it tried to squeak in a left turn. Idiot . “What I need is a siren. Or some backup,” I clarified for Bree.

“Medallion 5C742, what’s your location?” The taxi dispatch suddenly crackled at me. Another country heard from. “Come in. Do you hear me?”

“Alex, what’s happening now?” Bree asked. “Are you all right? Alex ?”

The coupe barely slowed as it pulled around a UPS truck and straight into oncoming traffic. Cars swerved to the side as the coupe barreled at them. I gunned the cab and squeezed in behind.

“ Maryland 451JZW,” I told Bree. “I’m fine. So far, anyway. Still in pursuit.”

I kept my foot down-and managed to nudge the Miata’s rear bumper. The sports car jerked but then surged forward again.

“Bree? Did you get that license number? Bree? Bree, where are you?”

There was no response from her. Maybe I’d gone out of range. The only things in my ear now were my own pulse and the taxi’s racing engine.

I KNEW THAT the sports coupe could outrun me on a long straightaway, but that was the one advantage the driver didn’t have here. In fact, I could swear she was letting me get closer. Was that really happening? Was it a trap? Was that what this was about? Separating, then grabbing me? Was I the target? Kyle Craig would think up something like that. Was Kyle here? Was he involved ?

Then I saw what was actually going on. With no warning or brake lights, the coupe shot left onto a narrow side street, shimmied twice, and kept moving like a Pocket Rocket.

I missed the intersection completely. No way I could have made the turn. Another came up fast, though, and I took it, hoping for a grid somewhere up ahead.

Tall apartment buildings rose on either side of me so that I couldn’t see over to the next block. Straight ahead, the road came to a T with another main artery. Boston Street , I thought. I knew that beyond Boston was the harbor. That cut off some options, anyway. Made this a little easier. I hoped.

I can get her-take her down. And that’ll be the biggest break yet in this case.

The coupe whizzed by as I approached the intersection, and I accelerated blindly around the corner. This could be it. One way or the other.

We were in two lanes of inward-bound traffic now. The Miata wove through other cars expertly, passing on both sides, but it couldn’t slip away from me. I was holding on so far. And I had my Glock out again.

When the driver tried another surprise right, I was ready for it. The taxi’s outside wheels barely held the pavement, but I made the turn with an inch or two of safety.

A tree-lined residential block appeared ahead. I spotted pedestrians.

My chest tightened up. Kids would be out on a nice night like this. The coupe wasn’t slowing down. She was barreling straight ahead, even picking up speed.

I laid on the horn! Maybe I could keep the road clear of people. The coupe rocketed up several blocks, and all I could do was follow at a close distance. If you ain’t first, you’re last . Ricky Bobby in Talladega Nights .

When the driver tried the next turn, the street was too narrow for the speed. The Miata slowed sharply-and I came up fast on her.

I slammed into the back fender again, not exactly on purpose this time. I knew I’d just messed up the taxi pretty good.

The coupe fishtailed around the corner and hopped up onto the sidewalk, then somebody’s lawn. I heard a woman’s scream in the darkness. Two people dove out of the way.

My focus narrowed and also intensified. I saw the Best Western up ahead. What the hell ? On top of everything else, I had just been taken on a giant circle jerk ride around Baltimore and the harbor area.

It wasn’t until I saw the highway up ahead that I got it. The driver had figured out how to outrun me.

And I couldn’t let her do that!

BREE’S VOICE WAS BACK in my earphone. “ Keep all exits secure. Repeat. Keep all exits secure !” She was obviously in control. I wished I could say the same. “ Alex? Alex? Can you hear me? Alex ?”