Robin Cook - Vector

“God damn it!” Curt cried as he jammed on the brakes and threw the steering wheel to the left to try to follow. The van shuddered as it skidded sideways before the tires caught. Even so, it grazed a parked car on the right followed by one on the left before Curt regained complete control. In the distance they could see Jack methodically pumping.

“Doesn’t he get tired?” Curt questioned. He pressed down on the gas and the van shot forward.

At Second Avenue they missed the traffic light. Undeterred, Curt inched out into the moving traffic amid horn honking and swearing. Steve hunkered down in his seat, since he was the one exposed to the oncoming vehicles.

“Up yours!” Curt yelled to a particularly irate driver. Despite moving against the light, Curt succeeded in making it across Second Avenue, and he accelerated again. Jack was already at Third Avenue waiting for the traffic signal there to change.

“We got him now,” Curt snarled.

Ahead, the light changed to green. Jack started forward. Curt pressed the accelerator to the floor, jacking his speed up to over fifty miles per hour. He was determined to make the light. Curt’s mouth went dry, since he knew it would be close. He prayed there would be no taxis jumping the light on their way north.

They streaked across Third Avenue without incident. Jack was only a half block away. But as they rapidly closed the distance, a car pulled out from a parking spot. Curt was forced to brake rapidly. He came up to the very back of the vehicle and leaned on his horn. The driver ignored him. Ahead Jack was again leaving them behind by crossing Lexington Avenue.

“I don’t believe this!” Curt yelled. He slammed on the brakes and simultaneously hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand in frustration. The car in front had stopped at the corner with a yellow light. “It’s just our luck to get behind the only driver in New York who stops on yellow lights.” He ran an anxious hand through his hair. “I suppose I could push him out of the way.”

“But look at the traffic,” Steve said. It was bumper-to-bumper and moving slowly on Lexington Avenue. “There’s no place for us to go, so don’t bother. We’ll catch him on the next block.” Curt growled but didn’t say anything.

“Let me out of here!” Yuri cried as soon as he was aware they were stopped. He dragged himself forward between the front seats.

Steve looked over at Curt, who shrugged his shoulders and then nodded. Steve opened the door and climbed out. Yuri scrambled out of the vehicle and stood on shaky legs while Steve climbed back inside.

“We’ll see you tonight,” Curt yelled from the driver’s seat.

“Sometime around eleven. You’ll be ready, right?”

“I’ll be ready,” Yuri promised hoarsely.

The light turned green, and Curt honked his horn. The car in front slowly made the turn to the left. Impatient, Curt gunned the van before the car was completely out of the way. They ricocheted off the car bumper, and the driver leaped out to protest.

“Serves him right,” Curt said with a malicious laugh as he sped west.

In the distance Jack was crossing Park Avenue on a green light. Steve braced. As Curt accelerated, Steve had no idea what was going to happen at the intersection. He knew intuitively that they were not going to make the light. Fortunately it ambered its way to red soon enough to force Curt to stop. The traffic heading uptown was moving rapidly, and since it was now coming on Curt’s side of the van, he was instinctively reluctant to try to cross against the light as he’d done on Second Avenue. While they were waiting, they could see Jack in the distance turn right on Madison Avenue.

“If we lose him, I’m going to be royally pissed,” Curt groused.

“I bet he’s heading for the park,” Steve said. “He probably lives on the Upper West Side.”

“You could be right,” Curt said. “And what are we going to do if he does go into the park?”

“Follow him!” Steve said. “Provided we see where he goes in. We can always have one of the boys snatch someone’s bicycle. The park is always filled with bikes.” Steve swung around to look into the depths of the van. The wild ride had quieted the troops.

“Who’s in the best shape to ride a bike?” Steve demanded.

The troops all pointed to Kevin.

“Is that right, Kevin?” Steve asked.

“I guess,” Kevin said. “I’m in pretty good shape.”

The light changed and Curt rocketed ahead. Steve turned forward and grabbed what he could to hold on.

At Madison the light was in their favor, and Curt made a rapid turn. The pipe lengths all rolled to one side amid swearing from the troops. Curt had to stop behind traffic waiting at the light at Fifty-second Street.

“I think I see him at the next light,” Steve said.

“I believe you’re right,” Curt said. “Between the bus and the oil truck. Jeer, the guy’s fearless.”

The light changed and they were off.

“What should I do?” Curt said desperately. “We’re not going to catch him with this kind of traffic on Madison Avenue.”

“We do have his home number,” Steve said. “Maybe we should wait and call him at home and try to get him to give us the address. One of us could say we were Yuri Davydov. Hell, maybe he’d come see us.”

“That’s an idea,” Curt agreed. “But what do you think we should do now?”

“Let’s head for the corner of Fifth Avenue and Central Park South,” Steve suggested. “If he does go into the park, that’s where it will be.”

“Well, it’s as good an idea as any other,” Curt said. He wasn’t happy.

They traveled north as fast as the traffic could allow. At least they were making the lights, but they knew Jack was as well. As they streaked across Fifty-seventh Street Steve happened to catch sight of Jack traveling west.

“Shit!” Curt exclaimed. The sighting had been too late to make the turn.

“I think it’s okay,” Steve said. “Keep going the way we are. Let’s give Fifth and Central Park West a try.”

The first street they could turn left on was Sixtieth, which was just as well. It led them to the northern part of Grand Army Plaza, where it joined the park. Curt crossed Fifth Avenue with the light and pulled over to the side of the road. He stopped by wooden police barricades blocking vehicular traffic from entering one of the park’s drives.

“Well, there are certainly enough bikes available if we need one,” Steve commented, trying to sound optimistic. Bicyclists were coming and going along with a host of in-line skaters and joggers. “Best of all, I don’t see any cops.”

Curt was looking back beyond the gilded equestrian statue of General Sherman to the area around the Pulitzer fountain in front of the Plaza Hotel. The area was jammed with a confusion of people, cars, buses, and hansom cabs.

“This is goddamned impossible,” Curt complained. “I knew that once we lost sight of him it would be like finding the proverbial needle in the haystack.”

“If I follow him on a bike, what do I do if I catch him?” Kevin asked.

“Lots of luck catching him!” Curt said. “The guy’s a pro.”

“He might stop,” Steve said. “You never know.”

“That’s true,” Curt admitted. “So give Kevin one of the Glocks. But more importantly, give him your phone so he can keep in touch with us.”

Steve swung around and handed the gun and the phone to Kevin, who eagerly pocketed them. “You want me to go out and get a bike now?”

“No!” Curt said. “We’re not doing anything unless we see the bastard. Actually I think we’re going to have to fall back to plan B. The more I think of calling him and saying we’re Yuri, the better it sounds.”