The T-Bird’s rear wheels reached the road’s blacktop.
Sam swung the wheel hard to the right. The tires screeched as the car spun around to a complete stop. He lifted the shift-o-matic up to first gear, and floored the pedal.
Sam glanced in his rear-view mirror at the mess of destruction they had caused. He grinned. “Now, this… my friend, Mike, is going to be pissed about.”
He kept his foot to the floor until the T-Bird was cruising along at its top speed. Sam weaved his way through the residential streets and pulled out onto I-5 heading back into Portland.
Guinevere said, “What the hell was that?”
Sam shook his head. “That was Excalibur, wasn’t it, Caliburn?”
The dog gave a sharp affirmative bark.
“Did you see how quickly it changed colors to match its background?” Guinevere asked.
“Yeah, they’re called chromatophores,” Sam said. “Little sacs in an animal’s skin and hair follicles, filled with pigmentation, that erupt in response to external impulses in its nervous system. I know this because according to Aliana, Caliburn has the same unique mechanism, which he inherited from the DNA he shares with an octopus.”
Guinevere looked around, still searching for the creature following her. “That explains how he could camouflage himself so perfectly. What about being bullet proof?”
“Maybe he was wearing a Kevlar vest?”
“I’m going to call BS on that one. For starters, no one wears a bullet proof vest all over their body and if he was wearing anything less than that, one of our shots would have connected with human flesh. Secondly, if he was wearing a Kevlar vest, his camouflage system wouldn’t have worked so well — hence, he wasn’t wearing anything.”
Sam grimaced. “You’re right. Which means he must share DNA with what… a Terminator?”
Guinevere said, “Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like it — and I’ve been to some rough parts of the world.”
“Neither have I.” Sam stared at the road ahead. It was filling up with morning traffic as they approached Portland. “We need to find another way out of Portland.”
“Where do you want to go?”
The fog was lifting, and a thin ray of sun revealed the snow-capped peak of Mount Hood to the east. Sam said, “We need to get to my ship. It’s the only place where I know we’ll be safe until we can work out what’s going on.”
“That’s great, but how do you plan to get there? Like you said, we’ve been targeted. People are watching the highways. What do you want to do, steal a car?”
“No.” Sam grinned. “I have a plan.”
“What’s your plan?”
“You’ll see.” He opened his cell phone, despite being at the wheel, and scrolled down until he found a name — Terry Nelson — and pressed the call button.
Sally answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Sally. Is Terry around?”
“Is that you Sam?” Her tone was familiar, but there was an undertone of disapproval.
Sam held his breath. “Yeah, it’s me Sally. I need help.”
Sally didn’t hide her displeasure. “All right, but Terry’s not in that business anymore. I don’t want you getting him into any trouble.”
“No trouble, ma’am. I just need his help.”
Sally didn’t say good bye. She just handed the phone to Terry.
Sam said, “Terry. Do you still have access to the Shanghai tunnels?”
“Yeah. But I no longer do that sort of thing. I’ve come clean in life. I’m no longer in the trafficking business.”
“Good for you!” Sam said. “Still, I’m going to need access to the tunnels and a boat — preferably something fast and full of fuel — at the other end.”
There was a pause on the line.
“Terry. This is important. I wouldn’t ask if I had another option. I’m being hunted by a really bad man.”
Terry said, “All right. I’ll leave the gate unlocked.”
“What about a boat?”
Another pause.
“Yeah. I can get you one of those too. It’s an ex-military patrol boat. Jet-powered. Should be fast and agile too. The only thing is, it doesn’t belong to me. I can arrange to have it left on the dock for you, ready to go, but when the time comes, it will be up to you to secure it.”
Sam glanced at Guinevere who was still holding the Remington shotgun as though she was about to shoot someone. His lips parted in a wry grin. “Okay. I think we can deal with that.”
“That’s it, Sam. After this, we’re even.”
“Thanks, Terry. Yep. After this, we’re even.”
Sam ended the call before his old friend could back out.
Guinevere said, “Well?”
“It’s all right. My friend’s going to secure us secret passage onto the Willamette River, where he’s going to leave us a boat to steal.”
“To steal? That’s really nice of him.”
“Hey. It’s the best I could arrange at short notice.”
In the middle of the bench seat, Caliburn started to bark loudly.
Guinevere patted him. “What is it, old boy?”
Caliburn didn’t stop.
Sam glanced in his rear-view mirror.
A black Range Rover Sport was zigzagging in and out of traffic.
Sam cursed. “We’ve got company!”
Chapter Forty-Nine
“A Range Rover?” Sam asked. “Seriously? What is it with you guys and Range Rovers?”
Guinevere shrugged. “Call it British sentimentality.”
Sam sped up, weaving through traffic. At the 405, he swung the cumbersome old Thunderbird into a hard right, down the exit ramp, into Downtown Portland. A quick glance in his rear-view mirror revealed that the Range Rover made the turn with ease, and was already accelerating out of the corner.
He swore. “Right now, let’s call it a tank that handles better and accelerates harder than the T-Bird!”
“The escape tunnels…” Guinevere said, “Are we going to make it?”
Sam pulled the handbrake up and swung the wheel all the way to the left, sending the T-Bird sliding into West Burnside Street. “Of course we’ll make it!”
He straightened up and reached down into the pocket in his jeans to retrieve his cell phone. His eyes darted between the oncoming traffic and his phone.
“Here, give me that!” Guinevere said, “What do you want me to do?”
Sam handed it to her. “Call Elise. There’s only one in my contacts list.”
Guinevere quickly found the contact and pressed call. “If she answers, what do you want me to say?”
“You’d better tell her we’re going to be coming up the Columbia River shortly — and if I’m not mistaken, I’d say we’re going to have some dangerous people in our pursuit.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. Tell her I’m going to need the Tahila to meet us there on the way — or we’ll never reach them!”
“Okay, okay! I’ll sort it out. You concentrate on not getting us killed in the process.”
Sam nodded. He overtook the Streetcar, driving hard into Chinatown.
At NW 3rd Ave he chucked a left, and headed the wrong way down a one-way street. Oncoming cars kept honking their horns at him. He kept to the right, and to his relief, most cars tended to try and get out of his way.
Guinevere ended the call. “Hey! I thought you said you were going to try and not get us killed?”
Sam steered onto the footpath. “That might actually be harder than I led you to believe.”
A big Peterbilt truck honked its horn.
Sam said, “See…”
Guinevere screamed. “Do you want me to drive?”