Part 46 (1/2)
”Fat chance.”
The Tahoe had power but steered like a fridge-freezer. The shears veered back and forth, dagger points swinging near her wrist.
”Don't watch me, watch the road,” Misty said.
”Mom warned me about driving with scissors.”
”I'm a nurse. If I slit your wrist, I'll stick on a Little Mermaid Band-Aid and give you a lollipop.”
”I'm a shrink. If you slit my wrist, I'll have to section myself.”
Calder's headlights swelled in the rearview mirror, blinding white.
”We have to get to the airport main terminal and surround ourselves with cops,” Jo said.
”Freeway. Eight-eighty, entrance is up ahead.”
Jo could see the overpa.s.s a quarter-mile down the road. From there, getting to the main terminals by freeway would take five minutes.
”No time.”
Ahead she saw one of the side streets that led to the private aviation terminals. She slammed on the brakes and slid around the corner. Misty lurched against the dashboard.
”Sorry.”
Jo didn't know she could push her foot so hard against the gas pedal. She didn't know if they were going to make it. She boomed past a darkened business park. Misty jammed the scissors under the zip tie around Jo's right wrist, squeezed the grip with both hands, and snapped the plastic.
The gate to the airfield lay dead ahead at the end of the street.
She held the wheel steady. ”Scissors.”
Misty handed them to her.
”Murdock put his phone on the dash. Look on the floor,” Jo said.
Driving with her left hand, Jo worked the blades around the plastic cuff and snapped it. Misty fumbled around and came up with the phone. Peripherally Jo saw her squinting at the display, dialing a number. She was near tears. Ducking low, Misty put the phone to her ear and peered around the seat to look out the back window.
”Ian's not answering.”
In the rearview mirror Jo saw the pickup take the turn onto the side road badly. It overcorrected and ran toward the curb, splas.h.i.+ng water from the gutter. Kanan had a rifle in his arms.
”Seth, you okay?” Misty called.
No answer.
Misty raised her head. ”Seth?”
”Mom... I'm hurt.”
”Jesus.” Misty scrambled between the seats and dived into the far back.
Jo looked at the speedometer. She was going eighty-five. Her eyes jinked to the mirror, trying to see the boy. All she saw, through a back window peppered with bullet holes, were Calder's headlights.
She looked ahead. The Tahoe swallowed ground, speeding toward the airfield gate. Beyond it were the cherry-red lights of the airfield.
Okay, now. ”Hang on.”
She braced herself. The gate was a simple swing-arm, painted red and white, with a control pad on the driver's side to swipe the field pa.s.s. She didn't know if it was wood or steel, whether it would splinter when she hit it or come through the winds.h.i.+eld at sixty-five miles per hour.
She hit it going ninety. Metal shrieked. The gate clanged out of her way, flinging sparks like a sharpening wheel, and she drove onto the airfield ap.r.o.n.
”Is Seth hit?” she said.
Misty's voice came back, screwed down tight. ”Shoulder, through and through.”
Jo hurtled past a corporate aviation terminal, plush and brightly lit. Its plate-gla.s.s windows overlooked the runways, but she couldn't see anybody moving around inside. She drove past parked cars and past parked single-engine planes.
Surely Calder wouldn't follow her. She couldn't. Even she wasn't crazy enough to conduct a running gun battle on an active runway at a major metropolitan airport. Jo looked in the mirror.
Kanan saw the Tahoe smash aside the airfield gate like it was a spatula. He held on to the rifle and braced against the sunroof. He felt the pickup slow.
He leaned down and looked at Riva. ”Follow them.”
She looked up in shock. ”No.”
”Go, d.a.m.n it.”
”Out onto the airfield? That's insane.”
Why was she looking at him like that? Why did she suddenly seem to think everything was screwed? She slowed the truck even further, approaching the broken gate, and looked around.
In the distance, on the tarmac outside a private hangar, he saw the Chira-Sayf corporate jet. The stairs were down, the lights on. It was being prepped for a flight.
He reached behind his back and pulled out the HK pistol jammed in the waistband of his jeans. Left-handed, he aimed it down at Riva's head.
”The people who killed my family are not getting away. Drive.”
Staring in the rearview mirror, Jo willed the headlights of the pickup to turn around and disappear. The truck was falling behind. It hadn't come through the gate onto the airfield.
With a burst of speed, it accelerated.
”G.o.d, they're following,” she said. ”I can't believe it.”
Kanan wouldn't so recklessly chase people he thought had kidnapped his family, even if he thought they were close to getting away, would he?
No. He would chase people he thought had killed his family.