Part 30 (1/2)

”We just got something on the DF board,” Central Commo announced. ”Then we lost it.”

”Well then find it again!” Spence yelled. ”This is a f.u.c.king disgrace!”

Geralds' brow rose. Fisher stared blankfaced.

”There it goes again, Lieutenant,” the dispatcher affirmed. ”We just got another positive DF, but it winked out before the board could process it.”

”f.u.c.k!” Spence yelled.

”And-yeah-there's another one.”

”So the killer's still on the line with Shade?”

”Affirmative.”

This was infuriating. ”There's gotta be some way you can at least grab a general loke.”

No reply, just a pause shuddering with the props. Then: ”Got it!” the dispatcher rejoiced. ”Upper east Northeast, it looks like, sir.”

Spence's heart was racing. The prop chugged like a flak cannon. He knew he must look to Geralds and Fisher like a pansy sweating the schoolyard bully. His stomach wobbled vigorously. He sat back in the hard metal seat, to catch his breath, to try and regain his cool. I'm running this whole show and I'm almost p.i.s.sing my pants, I'm running this whole show and I'm almost p.i.s.sing my pants, he thought. Geralds frowned as Spence began to put on his tie. he thought. Geralds frowned as Spence began to put on his tie.

Then the commo dispatcher confirmed: ”You're right, sir. The trace came through, Bell Atlantic Cellular, listed subscriber is a Jonathan Richards Duff, address-”

”I don't give a s.h.i.+t where he lives,” Spence said. ”Give me his car. Give me something we can see.”

”Subscriber vehicle listed as a '96 Nissan 2door, 300ZX, 6cylinder, orange.”

”Put an allpoints out on that vehicle-now,” Spence commanded. ”I want everything that moves heading uppereast Northeast.”

”Roger,” confirmed the dispatcher.

”You got that, Geralds?” Spence asked.

”Uppereast Northeast, yes sir.”

”So start flying this thing like you got a pair. Make me throw up.”

Geralds and Fisher smiled. The pilot's hands and feet jerked to opposite positions; suddenly the prop noise revved and Spence's heart was in his intestines. Geralds veered to such an extreme that the helicopter made the turn on its side. ”I'm falling-help!” Spence cried. Gravity snapped him against the seat straps. His gun flew out of his lap and began to bounce around the cabin. Geralds and Fisher were laughing aloud.

Then the helicopter evened out, soaring through dark. Spence had been one pulse short of vomiting.

”Here's your weapon, sir.” Fisher gave Spence back his snub. ”You all right?”

Spence gulped, nodding. In the observation ports, the city's streets looked like an arteriogram, lit blood pa.s.sages coursing through cluttered darkness. Tiny flas.h.i.+ng red and blue lights, dozens of sets, could be seen racing along the veins all in the same direction. I got three helicopters, six commo vans, G.o.d knows how many S.O.D. vehicles, and every patrol car in the city under me, I got three helicopters, six commo vans, G.o.d knows how many S.O.D. vehicles, and every patrol car in the city under me, Spence inventoried. Spence inventoried. If I can't catch her with all of that, then I should be pumping gas. If I can't catch her with all of that, then I should be pumping gas.

In another second, Central Commo was back on his headset. ”I gotta positive DF, Lieutenant. Shade's still on the line. The signal isn't moving anymore.”

Again, Spence bellowed: ”Give us a-”

”All units,” the dispatcher announced, ”Signal 5 to 2500 block South Dakota Avenue, 31st Street and Ames. Orange Nissan 300ZX. Confirm ID and standby.”

Spence's free ride through the heavens felt like a trolley on bad tracks. Geralds had one eye on radar and the other on a small terminal roving a D.C. grid map. The city was less than six miles wide. ”How long 'til we're there?” he asked.

”Thirty, forty,” Gerald's answered.

”You're s.h.i.+tting me! Thirty to forty minutes?”

”No sir. Seconds... Hold on.”

The helicopter plummeted. Now they were close to rooftops; below looked like an industrial section. Come on, Come on, Spence thought, Spence thought, come on, come on. come on, come on.

”Will you be una.s.sing, sir?” Fisher asked.

”Huh?”

”Will you be getting off the aircraft?”

”Uh, yeah,” Spence said.

”Hook him up with a handheld and earphone,” Geralds advised. ”Gonna be louder than the Super Bowl down there. Give him the megaphone too.”

Fisher affixed both to Spence's beltloops, then plugged in the earphone. Spence, pointing to Fisher's scoped rifle, said, ”I may need you to use that.”

”Just tell me which eyeball, sir,” Fisher replied. ”But try to get me in close, like not past 300 meters.”

Jesus, Spence thought. Spence thought. These guys think in meters. These guys think in meters.

Long flat buildings swept past them below, giving way to darkly lit streets. Patrol units were easily seen now flying through turns and around corners. Then Geralds said, ”There it is.”

Spence pressed his face against the door window. A residential section opened up past the industrial park. Beyond that, through building alleys, he could see South Dakota Avenue. Parked on a main street, by itself, sat the orange Nissan.

”You run the radio show from here,” Spence ordered Geralds. ”n.o.body shoots unless I say so. Got it?”

”Yes sir.”

”Now let me out of this thing.”

”Sir, it might not be such a hot idea for you to go down there. Let Fisher go, he's gotta vest.”

”Let me out,” Spence ordered.

”Unb.u.t.ton,” the pilot said to Fisher. ”You heard the man. Then take your firing post.”

The spotlight grew on the street, and the Nissan. Suddenly it looked like daylight. Another helicopter appeared like magic to their right. Fisher, umbilicaled by canvas straps to metal hooks, slid open the cabin door and threw out the ladder. The helicopter hitched down in jagged increments...