Wolfe, he told himself, you got to let her go.
You’ve got to face it. You’re on your own in this thing. Can’t get Shuggie in this anymore. Can’t expect Pearce to be out here on the firing line, ducking bullets.
And as for what you were hoping for, with Seline…
No. Forget it. Can’t put her at risk. You’re on your own, in life. All over again.
Better get used to it, pal. Better get used to it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Wolfe didn’t sleep much that night. About eight in the morning, as he was just pulling on his boots, a pounding came at the front door of the flat. He grabbed his pistol, rushed out of the bedroom to the front door, and looked through the peephole.
Shuggie.
“Wolfe! It’s Shuggie! You gotta get out of there!”
Wolfe unlocked the door and opened it. “What’s up?”
“A fucking wrecking ball, that’s what’s up!”
“What? When the hell did they move that in?”
“About an hour ago! I just found out! This place has been slated for demolition for awhile but–never mind, man! Get out of there, motherfucker, it’s moving into position! There’s no time to argue with ’em!”
Wolfe turned—saw that Seline was dressed, putting her coat on, her face pale. He checked in his pocket, found he had his PearcePhone. He grabbed his coat, she grabbed the small backpack, and they followed Shuggie down the hall, having to run to keep up.
They pounded down the stairway, taking the turns like slapstick comedians trying not to fall over, and they were just reaching the second to the last flight when the building shuddered and—seemed to scream.
The scream was the sound of a 7,000 pound wrecking ball squealing as it crashed into bricks and metal girders.
The stairwell quaked and the floor rocked under them; Wolfe had to catch Seline’s arm to keep her from falling. Another squealing blow struck the building. As they stumbled down the stairs, Wolfe was thinking that this kind of demolition couldn’t be procedure. Had someone really searched the building to make sure there were no homeless, no squatters? Probably Verrick’s people suspected that Wolfe was here—and had moved up the timetable and bent the rules.
The building shuddered and squealed again, and continued to shake, dust powdering down from above—then pieces of plaster fell and finally bricks, debris raining around them as they stumbled onto the bottom floor.
Cracks appeared in the walls as they rushed through the door into the hall. Ceiling tiles fell, flipping end over end; insulation filled the air, rising in a choking cloud.
Then they burst out through the doors and into the open air—but they were far from safe.
The outer walls were coming down around them; the building they’d been staying in was leaning, threatening to fall into the one beside it. Rats ran from the buildings, screeching, and pigeons circled in confusion, disturbed from roosts. The air filled with dust, a fog of fine debris…
A cornice fell, narrowly missing Shuggie.
Then they were clear, running out of the cloud of dust, coughing, across the street.
They flattened behind the wreck of an old burned out car, trying to make no noise—a patrol car was coming around the corner. And chances were, the cops in the patrol car had been given Wolfe’s description. Verrick had to have more than one way into the police force.
The patrol car passed, the cops missing them—and the three fugitives stood up, letting the coughs come as the demolition ball continued to swing pendulously back and pound the building they’d just been in. After a full minute of coughing out the dust, and a good deal of spitting, Shuggie said, “Man, you are one high maintenance motherfucker!”
Coughing, Wolfe had to laugh. “Yeah. I guess I am. I’m gonna get out of your hair now, brother.”
“Well, stay in touch, bro. I got to get about my business. Got to cover my ass in all this.”
That’s when, pounded with unusual persistence, the building they’d been in simply imploded, crumbled in on itself, in a mighty cloud of rising dust…
Wolfe looked at it. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” Shuggie said. “Those motherfuckers ain’t playin’.” He said it almost admiringly.
A car was pulling up, Renfo at the wheel.
Seline looked at Shuggie. “Thanks, Shuggie. Coming in there, when that wrecking ball was about to hit… you got some pretty big balls yourself.”
“Hey so do you, lady.”
Seline laughed, and Shuggie got in the car and drove off.
Wolfe said, “Come on, let’s get out of sight. Then we got to get you out of town.”
She looked at him, like she was considering saying something…
Then she shrugged and followed him across the street, through a debris choked alley.
“Pearce, you got any more spare safehouses?”
“Wolfe! You’re alive! I heard about what happened… I thought you were bleeding all over the rubble about now.”
“Almost was. Wasn’t for Shuggie, I’d be mush. And Seline too.”
In another safehouse, Aiden Pearce was letting “Doc” Morrsky take his blood pressure as Pearce spoke to Wolfe on the phone.
“Your blood pressure’s okay,” Morrsky said. He was a middle aged man with a red nose, receding hair, and the profile of a weasel. “But we need to get you a CAT scan. I can set it up somewhere, we’ll fake up your identity, they’ll never know who you are.”
“Forget that, Doc.”
“Come on, Pearce, help me out here. Any dizziness?”
“Occasionally,” Pearce admitted.
“Then you’re not going to risk falling over dead by going on any of your goddamn missions till I tell you different.”
“Pearce, you still there?” asked Wolfe, in his ear.
“Yeah, hold on. Doc—I hear and obey. Now get the fuck out of here.”
“You owe me some money.”
“You know it’ll be in your account when you get home. Go. And keep your goddamn mouth shut.”
“Sure, Pearce. You know me.”
Yeah, Pearce thought. I thought I knew Merwiss too.
When Morrsky had gone, Pearce said, “Wolfe… go to the corner of 47th and South Archer. You’ll find Blank there. He’ll give you the address. And when you’re there, call me—I’ve got something new for you.”
“Hope so. The upload cast suspicion on Verrick but I just heard on the radio he’s calling it all a lie spread by an ex-con—that would be me. He’s trying to discredit the whole thing. Casting suspicion on him isn’t enough. Maybe I should’ve talked about the info you got on that attack—made a special doc to go out with the Medina file. And then we could go to the DoJ.”
“No. We’ve got no specifics and we don’t want to drive Purity further underground…”
“We’ve got to do something. I’m starting to get worried we’re not going to find out what this thing is… until it’s too late to stop it. Maybe you can live with that, Pearce. I can’t.”
“Just wait till I verify some stuff… Not get over to that corner.”
Pearce ended the call and sent a text, under an arranged name, to Kiskel. He was going to need some inside dirt—from his inside man at the Blume Corporation.
We need to talk. Life and death for a lot of people.
Sending a phone to you… by special messenger. The Blank kind.
The new safehouse was in the basement of a Southside pool hall near the lake. Wolfe and Seline could hear footsteps overhead, as the players walked around the pool tables, along with outbursts of laughter or hooting derision.