Al spotted the car and nodded. “Perhaps you should await me elsewhere,” he suggested. “You’ll be alone, unprotected while I retrieve the tape.”
“Not quite unprotected,” she said, and she took out her gun, then gave the cylinder a spin. “He comes near me, he’ll wish he hadn’t.”
“I still don’t like leaving your side, Mary Catherine, with one of them so close.”
“He doesn’t know this car, and he can’t possibly recognize me from there. Go on, Al. Get the tape. It’s the only way to end this thing.”
Sighing heavily, he nodded. “I will be as fast as possible, my lady.” He fiddled with the door handle for a minute, finally made it work, and started to get out without undoing the seat belt. It tugged him back down, and M. C. reached over to release it for him. Impulsively, she touched his shoulder. “Be careful, Al.”
“Do not worry,” he said, then he smiled at her and got out, striding purposefully toward the bank in his long dark coat, looking this way and that all the way there. Inconspicuous, he definitely was not. At least his sword didn’t show.
His sword. It was at that precise moment that M. C. realized what it was she’d forgotten. This bank had been robbed six times in the past two years. As a result it had been equipped with metal detectors at the entrances and airport-like X-ray machines. “Oh, hell!” She had to stop him. But she’d never get inside with her gun. Quickly she pulled it from her jeans and jammed it under the front seat.
She jumped out of the car and ran toward the bank to stop Al, but he was already heading through the entrance. By the time she got to the door, a security guard was guiding Al to the X-ray machine and asking him to walk through it. She shoved the door open, lunged inside, saw the X-ray guy’s eyes bug out as he looked at the screen, and then saw three security guards pull their weapons and head for Al, even as he reached for his sword.
“Al, no!” she shouted. Too late. In a flash the weapon was in his hand, whipping to and fro like lightning. The guards’ guns sailed from their hands as if they’d sprouted wings. The bank’s alarm shrieked like a banshee, and Al smiled, his eyes gleaming as he held the guards at bay. He was enjoying this, she realized in disbelief.
He backed past her toward the door, glanced her way briefly, and inclined his head. Then he was gone, out the door with the guards in hot pursuit. Already she could hear approaching sirens. She looked outside to see the dark sedan pulling slowly away from the bank. No doubt Guido’s goon had a record and didn’t want to be caught within a mile of a bank robbery. She looked up and down the street for Al, and caught sight of him as he leapt nimbly from the sidewalk to the hood of a parked car, swung his sword in an elegant arc to fend off his pursuers, and then leapt off the other side. She should go after him, she thought; she should help him.
But he’d all but told her to go after the tape. And she could always bail him out of jail—or the loony bin, where he’d more likely end up—later.
Poor Al. She hoped the cops didn’t shoot first and ask questions later. She knew she’d belter hurry. He’d never survive without her.
Quickly she went up to a frightened teller. “I know this is a bad time,” she said, “but this is truly an emergency. My life is in danger unless I get into my safe deposit box right this minute.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “But in the middle of all this, I can’t possibly—”
“Please. I’m not kidding you, I could be killed if you don’t help me.”
The woman searched M. C.’s face, frowning. Then nodded. “All right. But... be discreet. I could lose my job for this.”
“Thank you.”
Within a few minutes, M. C. had the tape. Getting out of the bank with the cops there questioning people proved to be another challenge. But she found herself pausing to eavesdrop as she overheard the guards who had returned from the chase, telling their story to the police.
“The man was insane,” one said. “Some kind of acrobat or something.”
“Look what he did to my uniform!” said another, fingering the neat slash across the front of his shirt. “He coulda killed me.”
“No way,” a third commented. “He was too good. If he’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”
“Man, I never saw anything like it. He ducked into an alley, and we thought we had him cornered. But then he jumped onto a Dumpster and did a backflip right over the fence. And he wasn’t even winded!”
Poor Al. Out there, being pursued like a fox by hounds, in an unfamiliar city. But she shook her head in wonder at the way he’d handled himself. She almost wished she could have seen it.
She tucked the tape into her pocket and sidled over toward the group of customers who’d already been interviewed. Briefly she thought about handing the tape to one of the cops on the scene, but it was too risky. If he were honest, he’d insist on taking her with him to the station, and that would leave Al alone on the run. If he were less than honest... She knew full well that there were several cops on Guido de Rocci’s payroll, and it would be just her luck to pick one of them.
No, she wasn’t handing this evidence over to anyone other than the top guy. The D.A. himself. But first, she had to find and rescue her self-appointed bodyguard before he got himself killed.
A cop gave the group of customers the okay to leave, and she slipped out with them. Then she ducked her head and pulled her cap lower as the dark sedan passed slowly by. Circling the block like a damned hungry shark. She couldn’t walk around searching for Al. Not yet. She had to get to the car. She’d drive around looking for him. It would be safer that way. At least she could make a run for it if they recognized her.
The guy in the sedan passed her, and did a double take. Oh, hell. He was picking up a cell phone now. She walked faster. She was nearly to her aunt’s beat-up Buick when a second dark car pulled to a stop at the corner just beyond it. A man got out. Suit, sunglasses. Damn.
She ran for the car as the thug came toward her on the sidewalk, his hand reaching inside his tailored Italian jacket. She thought of her own gun, tucked under the front seat of the car. Hell. Almost there. She grabbed the door handle.
A hand gripped her arm, spun her around, and she stood face-to-face with Guido de Rocci himself. The barrel of a handgun jammed into her belly, and she held her breath.
“The tape,” he rasped. “Hand it over, or die.”
“I gave it to the cops already, de Rocci. And I hope they fry your ass.”
“You’re a liar,” he said. “Hand it over.”
She met his shaded eyes and simply shook her head. “Shoot me and those cops will be all over you like ugly on an ape, pal. From the feel of it, I’d say there’s no silencer on that piece of yours.”
“Oh, I’m not going to shoot you, Miss Hammer. Not here, at least.” He tugged her away from the Buick, just as the other car came to a halt in the street beside it. And she knew if they got her into that vehicle it would be all over. She closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.
Chapter Six
The miracle she was praying for appeared. Guido de Rocci stood on the sidewalk, facing the street, holding her pressed up against her aunt’s Buick, his gun jabbing into her belly. His goons in their dark sedan had pulled to a stop in the street beside the Buick.
When de Rocci suddenly stiffened, she didn’t know why. Until she looked downward. Al crouched comfortably on the sidewalk behind the man, and the tip of his sword nestled at the base of Guido’s spine.
“Unhand the lady,” Al said softly. And his eyes glittered.
He was smart, her Musketeer. The guys in the car couldn’t even see him down there. The oversized Buick blocked him from their view.
Guido didn’t move.
“Release her, man, or I’ll run you through!” Al put a little more pressure on the sword, and Guido flinched.
“Okay, okay.” He let his grip on M. C. go, but still kept the gun in her belly.
“Now tell your men to drive away.” Again Al shoved the sword.
/> Guido grunted, and his jaw went tight. But he nodded to his goons. “Take one more turn around the block.”
The dark sedan moved slowly away. But M. C. still didn’t relax. Tough to relax with the barrel of a .44 in your gut.
“Very good, sir,” Al said, and he got to his feet as soon as the other car was out of sight. “Now, put your gun down, and perhaps I shall let you live.”
“You’re some kind of lunatic. I can blow the broad away with no more than a twitch of my finger, pal, so put your blade down or she’s history.”
“If you shoot her, the soldiers from the bank will come running,” Al said.
“Soldiers? What the hell are you, nuts?”
At that precise moment, one of the cops leaving the bank stepped out, glanced their way, and pointed right at Al. Several others followed as he came running, shouting that he’d spotted the suspect. The commotion took Al’s attention away from Guido for the briefest instant, and Guido whirled on him, gun raised.
With barely a sideways glance. Al flicked his sword, almost carelessly, and the gun flew from de Rocci’s hand and skittered across the sidewalk. Then Al backhanded the mob boss, and sent Guido sprawling.
The creep reached for his gun, even as M. C. was yanking the car door open and snatching up her own. She aimed it at his head. “Lie still, you slug. Al, get in. Quick!”
The cops ran closer, reaching for their weapons now. Al dove into the car, clambered into the passenger seat, and pulled M. C. in behind him. She slammed the door, turned the key, and laid rubber, cutting into traffic and drawing a half dozen horn blasts and hand gestures on the way.
Moments later, she heard the sirens. Hell, she was being chased by half the cops in Newark, and probably half the mob hit men as well. Traffic was bad. Almost at a standstill up ahead. She glanced at Al. He stared back, looking worried. And then she smiled and jerked the wheel. She laid on the horn as the car bumped over the curb and onto the sidewalk. People scattered like autumn leaves in front of a strong wind. She took out a few parking meters, but figured it was them or the pedestrians. She swung left, the wrong way down a one-way street, but the fastest route away from the city. By the time she emerged on a side road, she’d lost them. Lost them!
“Hot damn, I’m good,” she said, and slowed the car down to keep from attracting notice, turning onto less and less traveled streets until she was completely away from the city.
Al didn’t answer. She looked his way, and saw how pale he was. Looked as if he might lose his lunch, too. “You okay, Al?”
He swallowed hard, and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “The question is, are you?” The dazed expression left his eyes, and they filled instead with concern as he scanned her face. “Did that brute harm you, Mary Catherine?”
“No. But he would have.” She drew a deep breath and prepared to eat crow. “You were...pretty incredible back there, Al. I didn’t think you’d stand a chance against de Rocci and his gun-toting goons. I mean, with nothing but that sword. But you...” She shook her head and sighed. “You saved my butt, Al. I owe you one.”
He looked away, almost as if he were embarrassed by her praise. “It is what I came here to do,” he said. “And what I have spent most of my life doing. You should not be so surprised.”
She nodded. “My mistake. I suppose a guy who fights for a living learns a few things along the way.”
“You suppose correctly.”
She reached over to touch his shoulder. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
He said nothing. Insulted at her surprise, she figured.
“Look, Al, I’ve never known a man like you, okay? I mean, most guys...hell, they aren’t tough like you. They haven’t needed to be. The world’s too modern. They don’t need to hunt for food or cut wood for fires or learn to fight. They’ve got grocery stores and fuel oil and sophisticated weapons. Just aim and shoot your way out of trouble. Simple. Barely any skill to it. A trained monkey could do it.”
He finally looked at her. And he was smiling when he did, which relieved her a little bit. He’d saved her life, after all. Insulting him was the last thing she’d meant to do.
“It works to my advantage, their softness.”
“Does it?”
He nodded. “That man seemed to think that because he had his pistol in hand, he had nothing to fear. He did not expect me to resist.”
“I guess you taught him a thing or two,” she said, and she couldn’t help smiling back. “I wish I could have seen his face when you flicked that sword of yours and sent his gun sailing. I’ll bet he looked like an air-starved trout.”
Al frowned and tilted his head. “His mouth was open. And his eyes did seem to bulge a bit.”
Mary Catherine laughed out loud, tipping her head back. “You’re something, Al. You really are.”
Al nodded, but his expression turned serious. “It will not be so easy next time,” he said.
M. C. felt her smile die. “You’re right. He’s not going to underestimate you again.” But then she brightened and patted her pocket. “But we’re halfway home, Al. I got the tape.”
Al sent her an approving glance. “I knew you would. What must we do next, to bring this de Rocci to justice?”
Mary Catherine licked her lips in thought. “We have to get the tape to the district attorney. I don’t trust anyone else. I want to personally put it into his hands. But it won’t be easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile ever is.”
“You got that right.” She took another turn, picking up speed. “We’re going to have to ditch the car, Al. De Rocci’s seen it, and by now the cops have the plate number. Then we’ll find a place to lay low, call the D.A. and set up a meeting.”
Al nodded. “A wise course of action,” he said.
“By the time we get settled in, D.A. Hennesey will be out of his office for the night. I doubt his home phone is listed.” He looked at her curiously, and she clarified. “We probably won’t be able to reach him until tomorrow.”
“Then our immediate concern is for a safe place to spend the night,” he said, cutting right to the heart of the matter.
“Right. We’ll head into the next town, leave the car at a diner, and call a cab to take us to a motel.”
“A cab?”
“A...car for hire,” she explained.
Al frowned, rubbing his chin. “Would the...er...police not be able to question the driver of this...cab, to find out where we’d gone?”
M. C. clapped a hand to her forehead. “You’re right. Hell, how are we going to get anywhere without a car?”
Al looked at her as if she were sprouting a second head. “You were right before, Mary Catherine. The modern world has made things far too easy.”
Al kept it to himself, but he’d been as amazed by Mary Catherine’s strength as she had been by his ability. Any other woman he’d known would have been in tears, become paralyzed with fear, or simply fainted away, had she found herself in a similar situation. A lowlife manhandling her, a weapon pressed to her tender belly. But Mary Catherine had defied the dog, insulted him, refused to cower.
She was, quite simply, amazing.
He suggested she drive far from the city, into as rural an area as the modern world had to offer. And instead of “ditching” her aunt’s contraption, whatever that meant, he’d persuaded her to trust its care to a farmer. Indeed, he’d managed to talk the kind man into letting them rent a pair of horses for the night, leaving the car as a sort of collateral to ensure their return.
The man’s eyes had widened when Al had offered him a handful of gold coins in exchange for the use of his horses. He’d examined them carefully, while M. C. had elbowed Alexandre in the rib cage.
When he looked her way, she whispered, “Those coins are probably worth a fortune, Al!”
“Nonsense. ‘Tis a pittance.”
“Not in this day and age. If you have any more, hold on to them, for heaven’s sake.”
He shrugged, quite befuddled. But the man pocketed the
coins, grinning hugely, and was only too happy to comply when Alexandre asked him to keep the car in his barn overnight. To protect it from the elements, he said, though his true motive was to keep it from prying eyes.
He thought he’d done quite well, until the fanner led two graying, swaybacked mares from his barn, decked out in worn saddles and bridles whose straps were split with age.
“Are these the only two you have?” Alexandre asked, running a hand along one horse’s neck and feeling the matted coat in dire need of grooming.
“ ‘Fraid so,” the man said. “Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
“Er...Al?”
Alexandre shook his head at M. C, then addressed the man. “Perhaps I shall give you more coin upon our return. So that you can purchase some oats for these animals, and perhaps a brush.”
The man frowned, unsure about whether he’d just been insulted, but unwilling to let the possibility of more gold slip by him. Finally he nodded. “That’d be real kind of you, mister.”
Alexandre nodded. “Then I shall, provided you keep all of this to yourself. The lady and I do not wish to be disturbed tonight”
The farmer smiled widely, and winked. “Mum’s the word.”
“Al,” M. C. said, and she tugged on his long coat this time. He turned to her. “We’ll only be needing one horse,” she told him. “Unless you want to see me fall on my butt”
Alexandre frowned. “You do not ride?”
“Never have. And won’t start now if we have a choice.”
“A choice, my lady, is one thing we do not have. I shall teach you. Fear not.”
She tugged him aside, her voice low. “Al, I mean it. I don’t want a horse all to myself. Can’t I just ride with you?”
His heart tripped over itself. So it was his closeness she craved, even still, after all she’d been through today. He stroked her hair and fought the desire rising like a tide within him. “I’d like nothing better than to hold you close to me in the saddle, sweet one. But I’ve already explained why that cannot be. Not yet,” he added, lest she think he did not return her ardor.
Three Witches and a Zombie Page 12