This story is based on the 'Gunsmith Cats' manga by Kenichi Sonoda, with a few elements from the 'Riding Bean' OAV (1989). It is set after the last published manga in English as of March 2005.
Tell me what you thought of it, no matter what you have to say. I'm a big girl. :) I always welcome reader reactions, especially ones that go into detail. Please email me at MmeManga "at" aol dot com (address spelled out because this site strips all email addys and URLS) or leave your comments here.
NOTE: The complete version of this story is housed at my Livejournal, which is linked on my main page on this site. I have removed large sections of chapters Two, Eight and Thirty from the postings here because of the current site rules, although this story existed on the site long before those rules went into effect. I am sorry for any inconvenience to readers; this factor is unfortunately not under my control. The complete version will also be posted at Mediaminer. My former dedicated Gunsmith Cats site no longer exists.
DISCLAIMER: Characters of RALLY VINCENT, BEAN BANDIT, MAY HOPKINS, ROY COLEMAN, KEN TAKI copyright Kenichi Sonoda. All other characters, and story, copyright 2000--2005 by Madame Manga. Contact by email at MmeManga Do not sell or print for sale without the express written permission of the author. Do not archive. Permission is granted to circulate this text in electronic form, free of charge and with this disclaimer and the author's name attached. Do not plagiarize, alter, or appropriate this text in any way. This story is intended for personal entertainment purposes only. No infringement of any copyrights or other rights is intended.
ADULT CONTENT WARNING IN BOLD CAPS!
This story is not for kids or the easily offended. It contains explicit violence and extreme profanity. If you object to reading such things, do not read this story.
Chasing the Dragon
by Madame Manga
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rally's body slammed deep into the seat. G-forces snapped her neck backwards, but the headrest saved her from whiplash. Buff went from zero to one hundred and twenty in about four and a half seconds downhill, Bean ramming the shift through the gears in a rapid blur. When they hit the ramp in sixth, the digital speedometer blinked up to 169.
Through thin air and into the inferno, hurtling twenty-five feet across in an arc about six feet above the dock level at the apex and down with a crash. For a few moments all she could see was the fire surrounding them. Sweat sprang out on her forehead when Buff's paint smoked and bubbled in the heat.
The burning decking creaked and sagged abruptly to the side under the weight of the car. Rally gasped. Bean jutted his jaw and gunned Buff forward. A stink of scorched rubber worked its way into her nostrils despite the recirculating air system. Buff's tires smoked from their passage through the wall of fire. But they were through and on solid concrete flooring.
Rally looked over her shoulder and watched a large chunk of decking tear free and fall. On the return trip, the gap would be that much wider—and how could they get a running start from the pier? Bean braked, threw Buff into low gear and climbed over fallen roof beams and debris. Lurching from side to side, they made slow, noisy progress. Smoke swirled thick and white over the windshield; Buff's powerful headlights showed almost nothing. But they soon reached a clear area of the floor and the smoke thinned ahead of them. Through the sunroof, Rally glimpsed the underside of the office bridge far above. They were halfway through the pier.
"Déjà vu," she muttered, adjusting the HK11 between her knees.
Bean glanced her way. "Lookin' for Four, are we?"
"Yes…"
"OK. You got an idea how we proceed from here?"
"I…don't know. He's certainly expecting me, but I haven't a clue where he's hanging out right now." She shifted forward in her seat and unbuckled the harness. "Or with what kind of weaponry—he's fired a Stinger—"
"That was a Stinger, huh? Rockin'." He grinned and slightly shook his head as if obligated to pay tribute to sheer balls-out audacity. "This oughta get interesting."
"You saw the flash?"
"Got a good view from the top of Russian Hill." Bean peered out the driver's window. His scar wrinkled as he frowned, then he let out a whistle. "Couple of stiffs over there. Wow, pretty messy."
Rally covered her mouth to counter a sudden surge of nausea. "They must be some of the bomb squad...he set off a Claymore." Buff's right front wheel hit a bump with a soft, crunching thud. "Oh Jesus—you just drove over—"
Bean raised his brows. "Sorry. He was in the way."
She took several deep breaths, trying to clear her mind as Buff moved slowly forward. "It's all right—oh, God. Roy called YOU? He asked you to—"
"Yeah. I've been listening in on the police band. But gimme your sitrep."
Silently she gave thanks for Bean's professional cool. "OK…uh, two adult hostages. They're tied up—Larry said 426 was holding the phone for him. Probably they're at the very back to be as far away from the blast and fire as possible. I think there's still lots of debris down at the end where the roof fell in, so that would be good shelter. O'Toole's dead. 426 is alone, but expect anything. They must have been setting this up for a couple of days, and they had some hired help to do it."
"Figured that," said Bean, maneuvering around a pile of charred timbers.
She wanted to ask him if he had been figuring on this all along—if he had stayed in San Francisco just in anticipation of 426's last gambit, and of her danger as its ultimate target. If he had always meant to appear in her moment of need, storm out of the darkness like an avenging angel, an inevitable force of nature, no longer subject to the laws of distance and gravity. If he had been waiting to show her beyond all doubt that he—
God, no. She couldn't think of a worse time to learn the answer to that question. Ridged red parallel slashes wrapped around Bean's throat under the collar of his jacket; the black stitches were gone now. He had enough reason to confront 426 just on that ground. A strange air hung around him. Virtually returned from the dead, with all extraneous matters burned from his mind; almost purified in his resolve. Unchanged in its hard-edged essentials, his face had taken on fresh meanings, greater power. He almost seemed another being than the man she had known so long, though not well. She had the feeling she would need to learn him all over again. If she had time.
Wind blew out of the gap in the roof, taking smoke with it. The closer they moved to the end of the pier, the clearer the air became. FBI investigators had piled some of the wreck to the sides, so a clear lane stretched to the very end of the pier. No one appeared within the range of the headlights.
Just as Bean braked at a point about three-quarters of the way to the back wall, Rally touched his arm. "I think we'd better go the rest of the way on foot."
"Yeah, I'm thinkin' the same thing." Bean turned Buff around 180 degrees, making a slow sweep with his headlights, and stopped. "And I'm wonderin' what else he's got set up in here. Won't help us staying in the car if I hit an anti-tank mine or somethin'."
Rally shifted the HK11 to her left hand, put on her ballistic goggles and reached for the handle of her door. "I'll go around the walls. You stay on the interior perimeter, OK? If the smoke gets thicker and it's hard to see, at least one of us will still be close to the car."
"Gimme a sec—here." Bean reached into the console, dug through the contents and offered her a military-surplus gas mask. "Might come in handy."
It might, though vision would be a problem with the full-face visor. And if the oxygen level dropped too low, consumed by the fires, a gas mask would be no use at all. "Well…this probably fits your face, right? You'd better hold onto it."
"No, I carry it for passengers. More like your size than mine. I guess." He looked down, his jaw working slightly. "Just in case, hey?"
"Thanks. I'll keep it in reserve." Rally slung the gas mask around her neck. "Lend me a knife, please." He unzipped his jacket and extracted his switchblade. "Wish us luck, Bean?" She held out her hand for the knife.
Dark in the dim interior lights, his eyes dilated for a moment. Something surged behind them that could not be said aloud at a time like this, with every second precious. "You got a real set, lady. So to speak." Lips quirked, he put the switchblade in her palm. "Let's go for it."
Bean killed the engine and turned on the parking lights before getting out. As Rally exited Buff, Bean opened the doors and the trunk lid, using his leather sleeves to protect his fingers since the scorched body panels were still hot. He took off his jacket and dumped it in the car. Out of the trunk he fetched a firefighter's halogen light, which he clipped to his belt. Hands on his hips, he stood silent for a moment, scanning.
No argument? No demand that he should come with her? She wasn't sure what to make of that. "Um…you're not going to wear your jacket?"
"Four's not much on guns, far as I can tell. When I've seen him, he's been carryin', but he doesn't draw...because he can kill you any number of ways. So I figure I'm better off not slowing myself down." He soaked a bandanna with a water bottle and tied it around his neck, then reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small item, which he tossed to her. She caught it out of the air and looked at it.
A ring with one big car key. He was giving her Buff's spare. Rally gulped at the implication, but nodded and put the key away. "How long have we got? I'm no expert on structure fires, but…"
"Eight, ten minutes, at the outside." Bean cocked an eye at the ceiling. "Maybe a little longer if the engines start puttin' water on it. Watch out if you see any funny stuff going on."
"Funny stuff?"
He pointed at the roiling smoke that raced along the ceiling towards the hole in the roof. "Blue flames that run out ahead of the main fire. That means everything's heated up to flashover temp, an' the whole place is gonna explode."
"Oh."
"Hey, it's a big building. It'll take a while to get to that point. We just better be outta here by then." Bean winked and pulled the bandanna over his mouth and nose. He drew a sheath knife from a belt holster and moved straight up the middle of the floor. Rally sprinted to the west and found space to move between the wall and the piles of wooden debris.
Fire-generated winds lashed at Rally's hair and clothing, blasting heat over her. She crouched low and scrambled around the piles with deliberate speed, letting the muzzle of her rifle precede her around every corner. The tactical light made an excellent flashlight, though she knew it might pinpoint her for 426. Several times she stopped and listened, straining to hear anything over the regular sloshing of water below and the roar of the fire. Brown had escaped through that hole in the floor—the two-foot-wide crater in the center of the cleared area. Black smoke rose from it, so the fuel spill on the water was still burning. Still nothing moved other than the pillar of smoke; the hostages, and 426, were well hidden.
In the shelter of the piles, she did not feel the heat as much, but every time she emerged from their cover the growing inferno smote her in the face like an opened oven. Through the smoke near the entrance, a glow of fire ran above and along the roof beams. Dimly she could make out the sirens of additional engines rushing to the scene. Would they risk the approach to the pier?
A strange pair of noises: a deep, metallic clunk like a strong spring snapping something shut, and a harsh grunt, somewhat muffled. How far away? Her spatial senses, normally acute, were confused by the fire, the smoky darkness and the maze of wooden junk. She risked a climb to the top of one pile to get her bearings.
Two pairs of feet appeared, protruding from behind another pile, one pair shod and the other bare. She heard a moan. 426 might be lurking near his hostages, intent on ambush. Rally spun, checking her surroundings in all directions before heading towards the feet. Cautiously she descended and peered around the corner.
Two plastic-hooded figures, lying back to back with their wrists tied in front. The barefoot man wore filthy hospital pajamas.
"Larry?" she said in a loud whisper. "I'm here to get you!"
His head moved. "Ra…Rally?" In a moment she was at his side. The bag over his head was a smoke-filtering rescue hood, so she didn't remove it. Rally propped the rifle on a piece of wood to spotlight the two and slashed at Larry's bonds with Bean's switchblade. The knife grated on the cords. Coated wire cable! Larry and Bui were lashed together at necks, elbows, knees and ankles. She had to separate them. Though the men had slender builds, she could not possibly lift both of them at once.
"Bui's been unconscious for hours…better take him first." Larry's voice was weak, but definite. "He needs more help than I do. I think I can walk."
"I'll move you to another spot while I'm getting him in the car, but don't come with me yet. If 426 has staked it out…"
"I get it."
Frantically she sawed at the bonds, the wires giving way one by one with what seemed like excruciating slowness. The smoke grew thicker, making her eyes smart under the not-quite-airtight goggles. She dared not call out to Bean for help with the hostages. Broadcasting their positions to 426 would be unwise, to put it mildly. Apparently he hadn't noticed what she was doing yet. Thank goodness.
Perhaps 426 had left her alone so long because he was stalking Bean! The thought jolted her, but she suppressed her tremble and kept working as fast as she could go.
When the bonds were cut, she slung her rifle on her back, grabbed Bui's limp body and sat him upright. She slipped his still-bound hands over her head, put her arms around his waist and stood up. Turning, she looped her hands under his knees and lifted him with an effort. Larry grabbed a stick to prop himself up, and stood.
For a brief and horrifying moment, she could not tell east from west. Circling in the debris had turned her around several times. Which way should she go? Then she glimpsed Buff's tail lights glowing through the smoke. "Follow me, Larry."
He staggered behind her with the aid of the stick until she found a handy cave in the debris to hide him in. He crawled inside and collapsed.
She slowed as she approached the car, rested her burden for a moment and checked for anyone lying in wait. Where the hell was 426? This was far too easy. She hoisted Bui again, got him into the back seat, propped him in a sitting position and buckled his seatbelt.
On her return to the spot where she had left Larry, she took a different route, hoping to encounter Bean. Visibility was growing worse, and there was no sign of him. A tinge of panic entered her thoughts.
If he had already met 426, could the fight have been entirely silent? Knife against martial arts. From experience she already knew how lethal the Triad assassin's technique could be. And what had that sound been?
Larry was still in the cave, still breathing and with his eyes open. The almost-worshipful look he gave her through the hood might have made her blush under different circumstances; as it was, she smiled back and prepared to lift him the same way she had Bui. She heard another breath above her, a long slow one let out with a hint of satisfaction, and looked up.
426 stood at the top of the pile, smiling. He wore a black coverall and utility belt with holster, and his hands were empty.
"Your sacrifice is touching," he said. "Prepare to die with me."
Rally sprang to her feet and backpedaled, rifle at the ready. "No way!"
He made no move to attack, neither drawing his pistol nor taking up a fighting stance. But she knew very well that he would prevent any attempt to flee with the hostages. She had to shoot, and she had to shoot now. Still, the decision occupied an agonized moment—she had never before shot to kill when not immediately threatened. Her finger hesitated for a split second on the trigger, and in that instant, 426 leaped.
Her burst flew under his feet. He flipped in the air and came down with a knife-edge strike that she barely dodged. Rally scrambled to the top of another pile and aimed again. He sidestepped the burst so quickly she could not follow him with her eyes. Larry lurched to his feet and threw a splintered board at 426.
"Shaoqi!" he croaked out. 426 glanced his way, and Rally let off another burst. Again, incredibly, she missed. For a moment she was convinced that his skills really were based on black magic. 426 almost seemed to teleport from spot to spot, never staying in her sights for more than an instant. Two-thirds of the belt was gone, and playing tag like this would only waste the rest of her ammo. She stopped firing and circled. 426 landed behind Larry and looped an arm around his throat.
Holding his prisoner in a shielding position, he rested his Sig P221 at the base of Larry's neck and flicked off the safety. Larry struggled, but was obviously too weak to break away.
Rally had the rifle aimed at 426's left eye. She froze, finger poised on the trigger. Both of them breathed hard for a few moments.
"I congratulate you. Your personal courage is impressive," said 426, and bowed his head half an inch. "It is gratifying to see that I have not misjudged your character."
"Really."
"As you followed the path I laid out for you tonight, I evaluated your skills and physical strength as well as your moral fiber. I am glad that I have not wasted my pains. Still, no woman has ever proved herself a truly worthy opponent to me. How you face death remains to be seen."
"Yeah? Whatever—I have no intention of dying here, and neither does Larry, so hand him over. Practice ritual suicide on your own time, OK?"
He gently shook his head. "Your fate is determined. Accept it, and your spirit will move on to another life without pain. Fight your destiny, and your ghost will walk the earth in torment."
Rally rolled her eyes. "Guess what, Mr. Red Pole—you are not God, and you don't determine jack where my destiny is concerned. Can the mumbo-jumbo. Put Larry down, and let's shoot this out like civilized people."
He gave her no response but a calm smile. For all her bravado, time was on his side, not hers. How to break the standoff? She realized she could not count on backup from Bean. More than likely, he was lying somewhere in the debris with a broken neck…
"Why are you still fighting for the Triad?" she burst out. "The Eight Dragon Triad is dead!"
"I fight for love," said 426. He laid his cheek against Larry's for a moment. Larry gritted his teeth. "Would you not revenge the death of a loved one? My Triad is dead, yes. And my beautiful boy, who fell at your feet. We will live in paradise together."
"I didn't kill Henry Huang! It was O'Toole who shot him. In cold blood, I might add!"
426 chuckled and ruffled Larry's hair. "I am aware of that, woman."
She stared at him in shock. "You are?"
"He is a transparent liar. I was never able to obtain a copy of the FBI ballistics report to confirm my deductions, but that wasn't necessary. The truth was written on his face. Such a shooting is not in your nature in any case."
Rally blinked. "What? If you knew that O'Toole had killed your lover, why didn't you kill him? I thought you liked to torture people to death!"
426 rolled his head a few degrees from side to side. "I have punished some offenders against the Triad, yes. But O'Toole was more useful to us alive than dead. In any case, you had already saved me the trouble."
"Saved you the trouble? What do you mean?"
"I invite you to recall your dealings with Brown's bodyguard since you first encountered him." 426 gave her a slow, knowing grin and pulled Larry a little closer.
"Huh? He kept attacking me. I kept making him stop it."
The grin widened. "You made him stop it? Yet you were never quite finished with him until now, were you?"
Something small and sharp-clawed seemed to crawl up the back of her scalp. "Stop hinting, dammit. If you have something to say to me—"
"I also invite you to recall your dealings with other foes—the drug trafficker called Bonnie, for instance, and the gangster known as Gray." He raised his brows, his expression still smiling. "Both of them lost limbs and suffered many painful wounds before they finally perished at your hands. I could mention many other people you have forced to live in disability and suffering."
"What the hell do you know about it? It was self-defense! It was always self-defense!"
The HK11 was heavy; her arm muscles began to cramp. If only she had put on the gas mask! Breathing was getting difficult, and tears ran from her stinging eyes so fast that her eyesight was blurred. She had to do something, and soon. But she had a dreadful feeling that firepower alone was not going to be enough to do the job. It was going to take a miracle.
"Naturally. I have always taken the same course. I inflict pain and destroy life for no other reason than the defense of the Triad. But you display a singular talent for slow killing that even I must acknowledge." With another slight bow, 426 kept his eyes fixed to hers.
"I…I don't do anything of the kind! You're insane! You're a murderer and a torturer and you don't care who you kill! I'm not like that! I'm merciful…" She broke down in a fit of violent coughing.
"I, a torturer?" 426 laughed. "I don't believe I've ever taken more than about twenty-four hours to end a life. You, in many cases, have taken a year or more."
"No…that's crazy!"
"Mr. O'Toole is a splendid example. It would have been far more 'merciful' to put a bullet through his head in the first place. Do you realize the agony he endured as you slowly destroyed his body? A bullet wound here, a broken jaw there, an exploding tank of gas, and still you would not kill him cleanly and outright. You are a creator of pain, woman. I salute you."
A darkness began to thunder in her head, the smoke burning her chest with every breath. "No…you're wrong…"
"In what sense am I incorrect? However, O'Toole at last can suffer no more...unless, as I expect, demons are feasting on his soul in hell!"
The HK11 wavered slightly, the sights drifting off of 426's head, and he pounced. Larry fell aside and sprawled on the ground. The butt of the assassin's pistol hit Rally's right shoulder with tremendous force. A shooting pain went through her arm and it fell limp. Dazed, she caught the rifle in her left hand and fumbled for the trigger. 426 holstered his Sig and casually kicked her left leg just above the knee. It buckled; she staggered and dropped the rifle. Two quick blows from the edge of his hand struck her throat and left shoulder, and with a kick to the right leg she went down. Gasping, she landed hard on her side. He skidded the rifle away with one foot and stood over her.
She was dead. In the depths of her soul, she knew it. Eyes open, limbs twitching and numb, she rolled on her back and looked upwards. The smoke was so thick now that she could barely see 426's face less than six feet above her. Her death was smiling at her in the shape of a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair.
Gagging and voiceless from the throat strike, Rally waited for the killing blow, but it did not come. 426 knelt down and put a rescue hood over her head. Immediately her breathing eased somewhat.
"You will die with me in the flames," came 426's soft, cold voice. "I wish you to feel their cleansing power. So I have taken steps to prevent your being stupefied by the smoke.
"You, I, and Larry Sam will burn in this place. Sam in atonement for his treason against me. You in atonement for your crimes against the Eight Dragons, and your audacity in attacking our interests."
"Bean…you killed Bean…" She could not speak above a whisper, but she meant it as a question. She had to know what had become of him before she died. By fire, the death she most dreaded...
"Is that why you have pursued me? Ah, I see. Bandit was your lover? And his death at my hands has inspired you to vengeance as my loss inspired me. You see, both of us have similar motives. But I have propitiated his ghost, and I do not fear him."
What the hell did that mean?
"The man you brought with you is immobilized and cannot interfere; I lured him to step on a man-trap I concealed in the wreckage. The agent is still in the car where you left him. However, I am not concerned with them—although they will certainly die with us, they do not deserve the honor of my funeral pyre."
The man she had brought with her? He hadn't recognized Bean! He didn't know Bean had survived his wounds! A faint hope cleared a shred of the darkness from her mind. Some feeling crept back into her right arm, and she surreptitiously wiggled the fingers. Bean must have heard the shots. Could he have pried open the jaws of a man-trap? If anyone could, Bean could. But even if he had worked himself free and tried to find her, he might easily lose his way in the now-impenetrable smoke. Their voices would not have carried far.
If he was looking for them! She had to give him a new fix on their location. She rolled her head slightly and met Larry's wandering eyes. The rifle was barely a yard from his outstretched fingertips, but he didn't seem to know it. Trying to signal with her facial expressions failed to get the message through—he looked blankly at her. 426 sat down, crossed his legs and arranged himself with palms pressed together. His eyes closed and he muttered to himself.
The gas mask still hung around her neck. Slowly, with her arm weak and trembling, she eased the strap over her head and off. Larry still looked dazed. She said his name in an urgent whisper. His eyes gained some focus, and his lips moved, forming her name. Glancing at the mask and the rifle, she tried to tell him what she was going to do, but wasn't sure she had succeeded. She had to try. That had been her lifeline in so many situations. Take the risk, and it might work—fail to attempt it, and you were dead already. She gripped the mask, raised her hand as high as she could, and threw it.
The rifle spun in a circle on the floor when the mask hit it, and the stock touched Larry's hand. He grabbed it, pulled it closer, and got a finger on the trigger. 426's eyes opened. The rifle still lay flat on the floor, pointing away from him, so he merely rose to his feet and moved towards them. Larry tried to raise the rifle, but his strength failed; it fell to the floor again, firing.
The last of the ammunition thwacked harmlessly into the pile of debris. Splinters flew, but 426 was untouched. He threw back his head and laughed. Turning, he walked back to his seat.
Something zipped out of the darkness and hit him in the shoulder. 426 gave a grunt of surprise and yanked the weapon from the wound. A sheath knife. He straightened and moved backwards. A huge shape charged head down out of the smoke. The assassin sidestepped and flipped out of his way. Bean took a swing; 426 ducked and flipped again, moving so quickly he seemed to blur. Landing on his feet, he assumed a fighting pose and aimed a strike. Bean charged at him again. Their movements stirred up the clear air near the floor with the hovering smoke, creating a patch of better visibility. She could see their faces now—Bean's was still covered with his protective bandanna.
As 426 sidestepped again, he struck with the heel of his hand against Bean's chin and knocked his head back. Bean staggered and put a hand to his jaw, the bandanna slipping down. Rally screamed soundlessly, knowing that he couldn't defeat the man—there was no way for him to land a single punch. She had only called him to his death. With a tremendous effort, she rolled over and got up on all fours. Coughing, she cleared her throat and tried to speak.
426 froze in mid-strike. Bean swung a huge fist and socked him square in the belly. 426 fell and landed hard on his hip. Rally stared in disbelief. How had Bean done that? 426 seemed to have been taken completely off guard!
Bean took an axe-handle swing and hit the concrete with his fists, 426 rolling out of the way. He sprang to his feet and threw up his hands. Again he dodged Bean's strike. But he seemed unable to mount an offense, his face white and working.
"Stand still, dammit!" bellowed Bean. "Yer the bastard that cut my goddamn throat!" He tore off the bandanna and exposed the raw red scars. "I'm gonna kill you—because you fuckin' killed me!"
426's face contorted in terror. "Guang Si!" he screamed. "Guang Si!" He called out in Cantonese, something that might have been a prayer or an incantation. Bean hit him in the stomach again; 426 staggered and fell down.
Larry suddenly laughed out loud, a creaking and unnatural sound. "Lin Shaoqi, the walking corpse has found you!" He added a Cantonese phrase that could only have been an obscene insult, and laughed again in a stronger voice. "You murdered him, but he won't be thwarted in death! This demon will drag your soul to the bottom of all the hells!"
Clambering to the top of a pile, 426 moaned and sobbed. When Bean caught him by the back of his coverall and yanked him down, he cried out. He landed on his feet, sprang up and ran. Bean followed, limping on his left leg.
This was a godsend, the miracle she had asked for—if they could only take advantage of it!
"Bean!" Rally had only a harsh squeak for a voice. "Bean, help me with Larry!" She crawled over to him. To her surprise, he was able to stand, and he helped her up rather than the other way around.
"I got something to take care of first!" All she could see of the two now was shadowy shapes through the smoke; the larger silhouette stalked the smaller.
"Bean, we have to get out! You can't defeat him! DRIVE THE CAR!" She stumbled over the debris on the floor. Larry threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her along. He had spotted Buff's lights, and they ran straight into the car after staggering ten yards. Navigating mostly by feel, she loaded Larry into the back seat with Bui, slammed the passenger door and got into the driver's seat. Fumbling for the key in her pocket and closing the driver's door, she prayed. With the key jammed into the ignition and turned halfway, she waited for a moment while Buff's air filtering system started up and rapidly cleared the smoke from inside the car. She took the rescue hood from her head and peered through the side window.
Please, let him come back. Don't let it all be in vain. She cranked the key and started the engine, then turned on the headlights to guide Bean back to the car. Again she waited for a few heartbeats. This isn't right. He can't die in here. He deserves life. You already gave him a second chance… And perhaps this was the reason he had been given that chance, because he had sacrificed himself for others. Wasn't that the definition of true merit?
"Larry, can you drive a stick?"
"Sort of." His face was smoke-streaked and pale. "Why? You aren't saying—"
"I'm going to go look for Bean. If I'm not back in here in one minute, you take the car. Drive it off the end of the pier—it's probably pretty airtight."
"The trunk lid's still open." Larry pointed to the back.
"Uh…well, I'll close it for you. Anyway, anything's better than staying in here!" She reached for the door handle.
A heavy weight slammed into the side of the car, rocking it slightly. She got a glimpse of Bean's chest pressed against the glass and immediately popped the locks. He limped around the front of the car, keeping a hand on the hood, flung open the driver's door and shoved her aside. Rally rolled into the passenger seat. A cloud of smoke came in with Bean; his face and arms were nearly black. He threw Buff into reverse and backed up at high speed until the rear bumper hit the wall at the very end of the pier. The air above them was suddenly clearer, the smoke rising in a high layer.
"Bean, you can't make it over the gap from a standing start—just dump it in the water and we'll get out somehow. If you miss, you'll hit the sea wall and drop into the bay anyway!"
"Hang on," was all he said, though he flipped up a striped safety cover below the dash. It revealed a large red button—the nitrous oxide system. "Ohh shit," Larry muttered. Rally braced her head against her seat and looked straight up through the sunroof. Far above her, glowing and dancing, she saw strange blue flames snake out along the roof beams.
Bean shifted and jammed his foot on the gas. Just as Buff started, Rally felt a thump at the rear of the car, like the trunk lid slamming. She couldn't look back, because Bean roared out so fast the car almost did a wheelie. He counted down, his lips moving and his thumb poised, and hit the red button.
WHOOOSSHH! Buff took off like a Saturn V. Debris flew to each side as they raced straight towards the wall of flame that had now reached well into the pier.
In the rear-view mirror, Rally saw a huge ball of fire explode behind them, boiling out to intercept the car at the speed of sound. Compared to the fireball, the wall of flame looked like a campfire. Buff soared into thin air over the gap, and the tremendous flare soared out with it.
The car landed with its front wheels on solid ground and its rear wheels just short of the sea wall. It slid backwards, and the fireball enveloped it. The temperature inside the car shot up. Terrible heat radiated through the windows, and the outer layers blurred and ran—the glass was melting. Rally screamed. In a moment, they would all be either roasted or drowned. Maybe both.
Bean seized the gearshift and jabbed a button. Blades shot out from Buff's rear wheels and dug into the top of the wall, arresting their slide. The engine hammered; the whole car shook and gave out a deep groan. The fireball retreated. Bean worked the gas in short bursts and Buff heaved forward inch by inch. At last, the car landed in the courtyard on all four wheels. The tires were vaporized and the blades had been welded in place. Buff struggled and scraped across the road and into a side street sheltered from the fire. The engine wheezed, clunked, and died. Buff coasted down a slight slope in eerie silence.
Bean braked, turned off the useless ignition, and slumped over the steering wheel.
Rally kicked her door open and leaped out. Buff's insulation had saved them, but the armored body panels at the rear were melted and warped into shapes like dripping candle wax. The thick windows were bowed inwards from the heat and molten glass had trickled down the car's sides. She pulled her jacket up to protect her face and reached into the car to help the occupants out. Bui was still unconscious, and Larry looked shell-shocked. He helped her lift the agent out, careful not to let his body touch the smoking-hot exterior of the car, and together they laid him on the sidewalk. Rally reached out to Larry and embraced him as tightly as she could grasp. He hugged her in return, let out a whoop and kissed her: forehead, cheeks, lips.
Bean stirred and opened his door. His boots hit the pavement and he slowly stood up. With his jacket draped over his shoulders, he limped to the sidewalk, looked at Bui, and at Larry and Rally locked in each other's arms. A grimace passed over his smoke-blackened face. Then he stumbled and nearly fell against the wall of the nearest building. For a moment he rested there with his head on his forearms, his shoulders heaving as he took great gulps of air. Rally leaned back against the wall and breathed with him. The atmosphere was still tinged with smoke, but the deep lungfuls she drew in felt like the sweetest, cleanest breeze she had ever smelled.
People ran towards them, shouting and gesticulating. Nothing they said made sense to her ears. Her legs gave way and she sat down, dizzy and weak. Bean pushed away from the wall and spoke in a low rasp as he worked his burned arms into his jacket.
"OK, babe, you got yer college boy. Delivered safe and sound." She looked up, startled, but he staggered around the corner into an alley and vanished.
The car was surrounded by the crowd. People bent over Bui and put him on a stretcher. Someone knelt and covered Rally's face with an oxygen mask. Larry came over and slid down the wall to sit beside her. Another mask went over his face.
"Rally! Oh, Rally!" May came running and flung herself at Rally, sobbing. Ken hovered behind her, his face tear-streaked but joyous. "We…we came here as soon as we heard about the explosion! They wouldn't let us get past the police lines—oh, Rally, I wanted to help you so much! And I missed the whole thing!"
"Which was damn lucky for you," Rally muttered. She moaned, the pain from her burns growing worse as people touched her skin. May's face came away from hers smeared with soot. "Roy," she said through the mask. "How is Roy?"
Wojohowicz leaned down. "He just arrived at the hospital. We've got to take care of you now, so don't worry about him. Vincent, that was the bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do." She glanced up and around her. "Where's Bean? God, what a man."
"He…left." Rally looked at the wreck of Buff. Bean's pride and joy, now a smoldering ruin in the street. Her head whirled. Was she passing out?
"Don't try to talk. We'll get you out of here." Hands raised her and guided her.
Someone screamed. May. Rally broke free of the supporting hands and turned around. People scattered, running away from the car. Alone at the rear, facing her, stood 426. He drew his Sig and aimed it directly at Rally's heart. A hallucination? Black magic? How the hell had he—
Buff's trunk lid stood open. The assassin's face and hands were as red and blistered as if he had been dropped into boiling water. He had hitched a ride and suffered the effects of the fireball. And his extra weight at the rear of the car, something Bean had not accounted for, had almost killed them all.
Rally tore off the oxygen mask with one hand and automatically reached for her shoulder holster with the other. Empty. Wojohowicz shoved an FBI ten-millimeter into her grasp and she swung it out, but she knew she was too late. Some policemen grabbed for service weapons, but in slow motion as it seemed to Rally. 426's finger tightened on the trigger.
Something round and metallic rolled under his feet. He leaped to avoid it and his shot flew over Rally's head. POP! Pink smoke and glitter burst all over the street. People ran to take cover, hauling Bui and Larry along. 426 spun and aimed at May as she thrust her hand in her jacket again.
Ken shouted and threw himself in front of May, but Rally blew off 426's trigger finger. The Sig went flying. May ducked around the front of the car and lobbed another grenade at 426. "Lisa's coming at you!" she shrilled, and fell flat with her ears covered. Ken rolled over and scrambled into an alley. The grenade flew over Buff and landed behind the open trunk lid. 426 ignored it and started for Rally. She grabbed Wojohowicz and dived into a doorway. 'Lisa'? That meant it was a live one!
WHRAKOOM!
When the shrapnel settled, Rally peered out of the doorway. 426 lay on his face, arms outstretched. She held the ten-millimeter straight out in a two-handed grip and moved closer. The back of his torso was hamburger, his clothes blown away. Most of his right arm was gone, though his lower legs were relatively untouched. Brain tissue was visible through a sizable hole in the back of his skull, and scorched glitter fluttered all around him, speckling his wounds.
Those injuries would have finished any normal man. Still, that didn't count for much where 426 was concerned. She kept the weapon trained on him.
He rolled to his side and looked up at her, the right half of his face destroyed. They locked gazes.
"I thought you were planning to die in there," said Rally. "Your glorious, honorable funeral pyre, or…something. Change your mind?"
"I have attempted more than I could accomplish alone." His voice was strangely calm and his undamaged eye wandered to the ten-millimeter. "I admit defeat, bounty hunter. Do you intend to free my spirit from this body?"
"And send you to your version of paradise? There's a reason I don't shoot to kill unless I have to, Lin Shaoqi. The difference between life and death. If you still don't understand it, I'm sorry." She backed up when he made to rise.
426 heaved to his feet, blood and shreds of flesh dripping and pattering to the ground. May sank to her knees and threw up in the gutter. His Sig lay several yards away, and he moved to pick it up in his one remaining hand. Rally watched in horror, and almost in pity. He took the pistol and held it up as if to shoot himself in the head. She made no move to stop him. But he reversed it and offered it to her, the grip slick with his blood. After a long moment, she took it. He made a deep and formal bow.
"Woman, as a worthy opponent, I offer you honorable warning. I die with my purposes unfulfilled."
426 turned and lurched down the street, leaving a red trail behind him. The onlookers dodged away from his path, grimacing. May huddled against Ken's chest. Rally followed the ruined figure a little way and stopped at the street corner.
Fire streamed from every window again; the blasted facade gaped wide like a consuming mouth. The twin gatehouses had caught fire as well. The pier and warehouse took on the appearance of a crouching dragon.
426 halted at the entrance to the courtyard. The wind that roared into the fire rippled through his remaining hair. He glanced back, then took a running start, whirled and sprang into the air. Straight into the fire. Like a weightless spirit she saw him fly through the curtain of flame.
Had he landed on the other side? Or had he somehow kept going? She imagined him as a bird soaring into the sky on wings of fire. The phoenix burned itself to ashes, and was reborn…
Smith's hand came down on Rally's shoulder as if he meant to draw her away, but she stood stock-still, her hands covered in blood from the pistol she still held. The firelight danced on the water, but the pale dawn overwhelmed it.
All around her, FBI agents and police stood silently. No one seemed able to move for a long time. Even the firefighters leaned on their rigs and stared at the fire. Larry slowly came forward and put his hand on her other shoulder. As they watched, the fire consumed the building. The entire roof fell in with a rending, shuddering crash when the sun rose over the hills to the east of the bay.
"I don't believe in ghosts," she said.
