For a few seconds, there was only the sound of our breathing. My breathing was nervous and uneven. Ranger's was deep and relaxed and always steady.
The truck motor started up, the brakes were released, and we began to move. It was an odd sensation, sort of like being in an elevator. Ranger clicked on one of the map lights.
"You okay?" he asked.
I nodded, relieved that he had finally banished the darkness and started speaking.
He reached under his seat and pulled out a familiar looking gun. It was a Sig Sauer. He'd given me this type of gun before, but this one looked a little larger than the 9mm I had used before.
"This is a .45," he said. "Aim for the torso. One shot, just about anywhere on the body, should stop a man. If he keeps coming, he's either on drugs or he's crazy. Then you go for the head shot," he told me. He opened the center console and removed an odd looking holster.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Woman's thigh holster, with an extra clip," he said, with a delighted grin. "I'll help you with it."
I was about to protest, but there really wasn't any reason to anymore. So I exposed my left thigh for him, and he gave it an appreciative glance before getting back to business.
"How's that?" he asked when he was done. "Is it poking you?"
The gun was resting between my thighs, just above my knee. My dress would more than cover it. And I had to admit, this was a much more comfortable holster that the others Ranger had given me, none of which I had used more than once.
"I think it's okay," I told him, testing it out.
"Practice drawing the gun," he told me.
"Is it loaded?" I asked.
Ranger raised his eyebrow at me. Stupid question. Ranger's guns were always loaded.
"Maybe we could take the clip out, just while I practice," I suggested. "I don't want to blow a hole in the dash."
"Good thinking," he said.
Slipping the gun out of the holster, he dropped the clip and then worked the slide. There had been a round in the chamber. I got a rush of adrenaline. This was serious. I might have to shoot someone. Ranger noticed the change in my breathing.
"Don't be nervous. It's not a productive emotion," Ranger told me.
I practiced pulling and aiming the gun a few times. "But, what if I make a mistake tonight? What if someone gets killed? What if Juniak gets killed?" I handed the gun back to Ranger.
"Deatherage is a murderer. You and I are going to stop him." Ranger slapped the clip in, chambered a round, ejected the clip, loaded the last bullet into the clip, and re-inserted the clip. He did this so quickly and smoothly, I knew he really could do it blindfolded. His eyes never left mine. "If someone dies, it's on Deatherage and Waters. It's not on you, Babe. You understand?" He slid the gun smoothly into the holder, gave my leg a gentle caress, then smoothed my skirt back down. "I know you're scared going in, but you work well under pressure. I trust you. I need you with me tonight."
I nodded. "Okay."
The sound of the truck motor died away. Ranger pulled me to him and kissed me gently on the lips, careful of my hair and make-up. He clicked off the map light as the back door rolled up. He started the engine, then backed the Panamera down the ramps. He put it in drive and took us around the truck, stopping just a few feet in front of it.
The hands free rang inside the Panamera, and Ranger answered it with a "Yo".
"Another three feet." The voice was Lester's.
Ranger inched forward.
"Perfect," Lester said. "The sparrow's in the sky. The eagle's still in the nest."
I cut my eyes to Ranger. "Is he serious?" I asked.
I assumed the sparrow was Rangeman's light-weight drone, eagle was Juniak, and the nest was the Governor's Mansion.
"Copy," Ranger responded, totally serious.
It was too much. I suddenly had a case of the nervous giggles. Ranger glanced over at me, but his expression didn't change. Nothing was funny to him right now.
"Sorry," I whispered, then started giggling again.
"Is she crying?" Lester asked.
"No," Ranger said firmly without explaining.
We sat in silence for a few minutes until Lester's voice announced, "The eagle has left the nest, casting three shadows. The forecast is calling for rain."
I took that to mean that Rangeman was coordinating with the fire department, to get the reporters off Juniak's tail.
"Copy," Ranger said.
"What's with the code names?" I asked.
"Lester's running surveillance. It's his show," Ranger told me. "And he can hear you."
I tried to relax into the leather seat, but I was having a hard time gathering my thoughts. I knew we were going to launch forward and take Juniak's place, and we were going to be followed into the forest, but beyond that, I had no idea what was about to happen. I double checked my seat belt. I double checked the contents of my clutch, having left my bag in the 911. Wallet, lipstick, mascara, knife.
"I forgot my phone," I realized.
"You won't need it," he said.
"You sure?"
"The car and the house both have ears."
"What if something happens between the car and the house? What about a wire? You usually put a wire on me."
"Guests will be swept for bugs at the door. Our communications devices are already at the house. We'll put them on once we're inside. I'm not letting you out of my sight before then."
"Good to know."
"The eagle has a silver shadow. Positive ID. Good position," Lester advised. "ETA five minutes."
"Make and ownership?" Ranger asked, sounding a little impatient.
"Maserati Quattroporte GT. It's clean," Lester reported.
"That's a serious sports car," I said.
"Very serious," Ranger agreed.
"What does he mean clean?"
"Not reported stolen."
"Why wouldn't the owner have reported it?"
"Could be part of a large collection. Could be the owner's away. Could be the owner's dead." From his tone, Ranger suspected the latter.
The Panamera idled so quietly, I forgot it was running until Ranger shifted out of park. My mouth was suddenly dry. I figured this is how the astronauts must feel during countdown on the launch pad at Cape Canaveral. We were about to be launched into space in the Space Shuttle.
"Stop with the twenty questions already. ETA sixty seconds," Lester advised.
Ranger was ready. I was practicing my deep breathing. There really wasn't anything for me to do. All I needed to do was sit calmly in my seat, and wait for Deatherage to try to kill us. Simple, really.
"Ten seconds." Lester counted down, "Three, two, one,"
Ranger took his foot off the brake and hit the gas. We were immediately doing 45 miles per hour, which seemed incredibly slow given the build up. I glanced back in time to see Juniak skidding around the front of the moving truck and down the embankment, just as planned. And there, right on our tail, was a silver sports car with a distinctive silver trident glinting proudly on the front grill.
"Just relax," Ranger told me.
We were still in a heavily populated commercial area. Deatherage allowed several cars between us, but never failed to clear the intersections with us. I began to notice that we were hitting all green lights.
"How is that happening?" I asked Ranger.
"He's using a traffic signal preemption device," he said to both me and Lester. "Probably stole it off a police car or ambulance, then modified the frequency. We could jam the signal, but then he'd know Rangeman was onto him.
"Is this going to cause us any problems? Are we going to get there too soon?"
"We will get there sooner. His plan must not require complete darkness," Ranger mused.
Without warning there was a pop-pop-pop, and a snowflake pattern erupted on the upper driver's corner of the windshield, and two more on Ranger's side window.
I covered my mouth with my hand, holding back a scream.
"We're taking fire," Ranger advised Lester. "Yellow Mercedes AMG convertible."
The yellow car was screeching tires doing a 180, coming after us with guns blazing.
"I see it. Who the hell is that?" Lester was scrambling.
"El Pavor's men," Ranger said, putting his foot to the floor. He veered left, heading toward the interstate. "We have to get out here."
The back glass was spider-webbed, allowing minimal visibility. I could see a streak of yellow behind us, but no silver. We were on the Interstate. We'd lost Deatherage. And something else caught my attention. A rear wing seemed to have magically emerged from the tail end of the Panamera, and, as I watched, the wing shifted in response to our increasing speed, helping the car maintain stability. I glanced over at the speedometer. We were blowing past 130.
"We're en route," Lester advised.
"Negative," Ranger responded.
"It's blown," Lester argued.
"Pick up the package and hold."
"Copy," Lester answered, not sounding convinced.
Ranger pressed a button on the information console, and suddenly we were listening to the police scanner. Descriptions of both vehicles were being given by dispatch. All units were being advised to block the on ramps up ahead to thin out the traffic. We were weaving in and out between unsuspecting motorists, and my heart was pounding. The Panamera was purring contentedly. She was made for this kind of speed and maneuvering. So was Ranger.
"Got a contingency for this?" I asked, breathlessly.
"No," Ranger admitted. "You got anything?"
"No." I stared straight ahead, mesmerized by the illusion that we were standing still as the other cars were zipping past us rather than the other way around.
Ranger had managed to put some distance between us and the AMG, but El Pavor's men weren't giving up.
"They're really pissed off," I said. "Is this about Stifken?"
"Yes and no. El Pavor may have thought we were dead yesterday, but his men recognized this car. That was no warning shot. They got close enough to see that I'm driving. Now, they've got orders to end us. Rude Tyrant's enterprise was financed in part by El Pavor. When we brought in Rude Tyrant and his crew, we also turned over five keys of coke to law enforcement. That's over a hundred grand plus an entire distribution network gone, overnight. El Pavor lost his piece of that pie. It had been easy money for him. Now he's having to squeeze the little guys harder to make up for it."
"Guys like Stifken," I said.
"Yeah. Then we interfered with Stifken, adding insult to injury."
"I thought he was just a loan shark," I said. "Now he's into drugs?"
"How many loan sharks do you know who have a stockpile of rocket launchers?" he asked.
"I don't know. Seems like you can just pick one up down on Stark," I snapped back.
"Trust me, they're not that easy to come by."
"Then how come every Tom, Dick, and Harry seems to be waiving one at me?" I huffed.
"I don't know. That only happens to you, Babe."
"Uh, Ranger?" We were coming up fast on some traffic congestion.
"Hang on!"
Ranger swerved sharply to avoid a semi, squeezing between cars, straddling lanes. We came within a hair's breadth of side-swiping a black Honda Civic on my side as we blew past the line of cars. Ranger never let off the gas.
"This is unexpected." Ranger was looking into his side mirror. The high whine of the Civic shifting gears grew faint as they fell behind, but a moment later, they surged ahead, catching up to the AMG. "You have been making new friends," Ranger growled as the Civic fell in behind the AMG. "And they've got nitrous."
I turned around and tried to look through the larger parts of unbroken glass in the back window. The Civic pulled up alongside the AMG. One of El Pavor's men tried to shoot at the Civic, but the air currents were too strong with the top down, making it impossible for him to keep aim. The driver's side window of the Civic was cracked a couple inches. I saw the end of a gun appear just before several shots rang out. The AMG blew a front tire and was airborne for a moment, skidding sideways toward the large grassy ditch between the inside lane and oncoming traffic. The nose bit the dirt, and the car began to flip wildly out of control. I glanced back to the Civic. The driver was grinning ear to ear, and just for a split second I caught a glimpse of green light reflecting off his front tooth. The driver gave a friendly salute, using his gun in place of his hand. Then the Civic began falling back, blending into traffic.
"Holy cow!" I said, my hand flying to my heart. "What just happened?"
"Someone did us a favor," Ranger said.
"Why?" I panted, trying to catch my breath.
Ranger began to slow, also easing into the flow of traffic. "He wants something."
"Who?" I was afraid I knew, but too scared to say it out loud.
"M-Rod." Ranger cut his eyes to me. "Any idea what he wants?"
"None," I said, sliding back in my seat and closed my eyes. "And what's with these guys and the bizarre dental work? Sid's chrome rimmed smile and M-Rod's emerald? Don't they know it makes them super easy to identify?"
"Yes," Ranger said, letting me know that was the point.
"Oh, yeah." Now I remembered. They wanted to be recognized. They wanted to be famous. And, they probably didn't mind going to jail as much as other people.
"We're going to talk about this later," Ranger told me.
"Okay." I could wait.
"We're on our way to check point alpha," Ranger advised Lester.
"Copy that," Lester said, relieved. "The eagle has landed."
"Oh my God," I groaned, rolling my eyes.
I knew he meant Rangeman had Juniak and his wife loaded up in back of the moving truck, but come on. Seriously? The eagle has landed? How corny was that?
"Where are we going?" I asked Ranger. "What's check point alpha?"
He glanced my way, then exited the Interstate, still heading north. "Babe, we're all dressed up, with someplace to go. The mission hasn't changed. This night hasn't even started yet."
I looked out my side window, the only window not damaged, and let out a sigh. Right about now, I was thinking maybe Lula was onto something. I could really use a pair of Depends.