Not so great—
Selena let out some kind of a yeeeee-haw! as they came up to another corner and sent a second set of Caldwell Courier Journal boxes airborne.
He was honestly glad she was enjoying herself.
He just really fucking wished they were watching this action movie instead of living it.
“Fritz,” he yelled over the roaring engine. “Head down toward the river.”
“As you wish, sire!”
Without warning, Fritz wrenched things left and sent them flying toward a pedestrian mall that skirted another of the skyscrapers. The Benz took to the stairs like a man wearing knee braces, the bumping, jostling, disjointed ascent the kind of thing that left your molars clapping and your kidneys begging for mercy. But then they were on the flat area that gave people all kinds of choices as to which of the four different entrance points to head through.
Fritz, naturally, choose the most direct route.
Through the fucking lobby.
Glass panes exploded as the S600 plowed into a wall of see-through, shards flying forward and to the sides before landing on the slick floor and coasting away like snow across the frozen surface of a lake.
Glancing out the side window, Trez got a good look at the night watchman jumping to his feet behind the bank of desks in the lobby. Seemed impolite not to acknowledge the poor uni’d bastard, so Trez popped a Queen Elizabeth and floated a wave as they roared through the interior and busted out the other side.
Smash!
Round two with the glass was just as trippin’, the Benz’s grille shattering through as they exploded back into the night.
“I believe we shall go airborne,” Fritz called out. “Do secure yourselves.”
Roger that, big guy.
Trez went rigid as they approached the lip of the set of stairs, and then—
Zero gravity, or as close as you could get to it without doing a U-ie at thirty thousand feet, happened as they soared, the ride getting super-smooth and relatively quiet, nothing but the throaty engine hitting the ear.
All that changed as they skipped over the sidewalk and landed on the paved road. The suspension absorbed as much of the impact as it could, but sparks flew out behind as some portion of the undercarriage got a dental file.
“Please forgive me,” Fritz said, looking up in the rearview.
“The terrain is hardly your fault,” Trez hollered back. “But not sure about all that glass.”
He glanced over to make sure Selena was still whoopin’ it up across the way. Yup. She was smiling and laughing, eyes bright as Christmas lights.
When Trez glanced up front again, the butler was still looking into the rearview mirror and talking to him. “Sire, I’m terribly sorry, but I must needs return home—”
“Fritz! Focus on the road, buddy!”
“Oh, yes, sire—”
Screeeeeeeeeeech as the butler course-corrected and narrowly avoided weed-whacking a lineup of parallel-parked cars.
“As I was saying, sire, I must needs return home,” the butler continued without losing a beat. “Last Meal preparations have to be supervised.”
Like this was just a video game you could put on pause? “Ah, Fritz—”
All at once the Mercedes went black inside and out, the lights extinguished. And at that very moment, from high up in the sky, a blaring light pierced down to the road, flashing over them for a split second.
“Helicopter,” Trez muttered. “Fantastic.”
Twisting around, he checked out the rear window. Blue and white flashing lights were speeding along, but the cops were cutting across their path instead of following—which would give them a pass for only a block or two before the CPD pulled a recalibration of their own.
Shit, how were they going to get out of this?
Before he knew it, Fritz had them down by the river, but not on a road. Instead of taking one of the legal routes, he popped yet another curb and began to fly directly under the raised highway. Pylons the size of redwoods passed by the windows, the doggen playing dodge-’em car, jogging left and right like a runner in an obstacle course.
No one was behind them, but they could hardly keep this up indefinitely. The Northway, which was what was overhead, was going to rejoin the earth—
Sure enough, the descent from up above started to happen, and at such a velocity, Trez became convinced they were going to mash-potato themselves into the coming horizontal asphalt merger.
Except, no. Fritz jerked out from underneath, riding a ridge of pavement around to the roads that ran parallel to the Hudson. Somehow, he managed to get them in between a break in the guardrails and then, justlikethat, they were on an exit ramp that would take them onto the highway in the right direction.
Heading away from town.
Trez waited for a lineup of CPD units with their lights going all Fourth of July to fall in behind them.
Instead, he saw a fleet of those boys in blue tearing it up on the other side of the Northway, heading to the site of all the fun and games.
Fritz slowed down and put his lights back on. Pulled into the stream of traffic. Floated away at a modest seventy miles an hour.
“How the hell did you do that?” Trez said with H2G respect.
“Humans are rather easy to lose. They tend to track lights, rather like cats with a laser pointer. Without the illumination? It gives one a serious advantage—well, that and possessing twice their horsepower.”
Trez turned to his queen. “You okay—”
Selena reached over and pulled his mouth in for a kiss. And another. “What a night! That was the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me!”
Adrenaline quickly transferred into lust as he kissed her back and pressed her into her seat. Licking his way into her mouth, he found one of her breasts with his hand.
“Should I tell him to gas it again?” Trez growled against her mouth. “’Cuz I don’t think I can wait. . . .”
“We’ll be home soon,” she murmured, smiling. “And I like anticipation. I’ve been hungry for you since the ride in.”
Trez groaned deep in his throat as he reached for the button to raise the partition. “Fritz?”
“Yes, master?”
“A little faster, if you don’t mind.”
“My pleasure, sire!”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Shortly after Xcor and Balthazar made yet another running turn in the maze of alleys, Xcor was hit by something so big and so hard, he was totally stunned as he went airborne, the world spinning whilst he stayed steady—or, more likely, he was the one going ’round about.
In mid-air, he braced for a nasty impact—but for some absolutely stupid reason, he landed on his combat boots. It was a hole-in-one kind of thing—and not a blessing that would last, given his momentum. To keep from falling to the ground, he sprang forward, trying to continue his run.
Something was very wrong. His legs weren’t working right a’tall.
Scrambling to stay upright, he was dimly aware of Balthazar shouting his name, and then suddenly, his soldier was right beside him, grabbing onto his arm and dragging him forth.
In the back of his mind, he sensed a presence departing the enormous vehicle in the manner of a vampire. And then the sound of the bullet impacts changed. High-pitched pings replaced the lower-register noises of lead burrowing into brick, asphalt, stone.
The lessers had come across that RV.
Which meant he and Balthazar had a second or two of greater coverage, and Balthazar took advantage of it. With a hard yank, Xcor felt his entire body get pulled off-track.
And then a moment later, he was behind some large structure.
No, a second vehicle—or something. Indeed, it was a gigantic square box with some kind of writing on the side.
P . . . O . . . D . . . S . . .