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Ralph twisted in the seat to look over his shoulder. The black sedan was coming out of a turn a few blocks behind. As he watched, it accelerated toward them.
"We just blew Rostokrovinitz's big advantage," Bill said. "We know what he looks like. He's not gonna want us blabbing about it back at the Bureau."
Bill threw the little Bug into a hard right turn. Ralph's wrists pulled out of Pam's grasp and he slid sideways across the backseat. Something small and solid dug into his leg. He shifted and saw what looked like a sequined softball pinned between his leg and the side of the car. It took him a second to recognize the object as Pam's round black-beaded purse.
"Your purse is back here," he said, trying to pick it up with his bound hands.
Pam had fallen sideways on the turn. She pushed herself upright, shooting Bill a dark look.
"Yes," she said. "He's been driving like this since we left the hotel. I'm surprised we're not all in the back se- Bill, what are you doing?"
Her voice rose an octave as the car swerved again. Bill had his elbows on the steering wheel and it was wobbling wildly as he slotted a cartridge into the gun in his hand.
"No! You're not having a shootout in my car," Pam said. "Please, Bill, I love this car."
Ralph could see by the set of Bill's shoulders, he was not a happy Fed. Finally, he shoved the gun back into his shoulder holster and dropped his hands back to the wheel.
"Fine," he shouted over the rushing wind. "But you're hampering justice, that's all I'm saying. Do you see the van yet?"
"The van?" Ralph said. "You think it's going to-"
"They probably got a car phone, too, kid," Bill said, glancing over his shoulder at Ralph. "Or a radio. If that's true, any minute now-"
Ralph jerked around at another sudden screech of tires. Headlights flared on their right, temporarily blinding him. He skidded back across the seat as Bill spun the wheel and they rocketed down a side street.
"Pam," he said, when he pushed himself up in the seat again. "I feel like a billiard ball back here. Could you, please-"
He held out his bound hands.
"Sorry, honey," she said and she stretched back over the seat and began working at the rope again.
Bill shot them a look over his shoulder.
"Okay, gang," he said. "Listen up. Old Uncle Bill has to go to work now. You two kids are gonna sit tight, in the car, out of the way, right?"
The rope fell away from Ralph's hands and he gave Pam a grateful smile before he turned to Bill.
"What are you talking about, Bill?" he said. "What do you-"
His words broke off as he glanced ahead and saw the road they were on ended in a loading dock, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent bulbs. The street on either side was lined with glass and concrete office towers.
"Where are you going?" he said, leaning forward to grip the shoulder of Bill's gray suit coat. "This is a dead end."
"Yeah, here's hoping that's not true," said Bill as he sped toward the gaping bays of the loading dock. "Counselor, about how wide is this toy car, you think?"
Pam glanced back at Ralph and raised her eyebrows.
"What do you have in mind, Bill?" she said.
He shrugged.
"Forget it," he said. "I'm pretty sure this'll work."
"Pretty sure-" Ralph started, but the words stuck in his throat as Bill accelerated toward a narrow ramp running up the side of the loading bay.
"Bill!" Pam said, clutching his arm. "Are you crazy? You can't drive up there!"
"One way to find out, honey," he answered.
The VW bottomed out at the foot of the ramp, striking sparks that spiraled up behind the rear wheels. Ralph reflexively bent forward and thrust his arm out across Pam's chest, pushing her back in her seat as they shot up the incline.
They hit the top of the ramp and the Bug fell forward onto the concrete surface of the dock. Ralph saw Bill stomp hard on the brake and he felt the car fishtail before it skidded toward a huge dark square in the back wall of the bay. Bill tapped the brake again and they slid to a stop inside a square metal-lined room.
Ralph didn't yet trust himself to speak without making noises up in the high helium-induced range. He stared around at the metal walls and ceiling for a moment. His brain pulled up a word to describe the room when Bill levered open the driver's side door and climbed out.
"We're in an elevator," Ralph croaked. "You drove into freight elevator."
He suddenly realized he still had an arm braced across Pam's chest. He looked over at her and saw she had a dumbfounded look that probably matched his own perfectly.
Bill's voice came back from behind the car. Ralph twisted around and saw him peering at the keypad beside the door.
"Yep, and this elevator is going up, boys and girls," Bill said. He punched the highest number, fifteen, and stuck his foot out to halt the closing doors.
Bill turned toward them, tugging his gun out of his shoulder holster. Ralph took in his friend's windblown gray hair, the tight look around his around his eyes and the hard set of his solid jaw. To Ralph's eye, Bill looked anxious, intensely focused and very much like he was having the time of his life.
"Okay, you two just sit tight," Bill was saying. "It's shift-change so you shouldn't see anybody upstairs. But if you do, just say you took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and keep 'em busy until you get the all-clear signal from me."
"I'm not waiting in the car," Ralph said and was startled to hear a higher pitched echo. He turned around and saw Pam was staring at him with a glare of determination.
"Yes, you are," he said and this time it was Bill's voice that echoed back. He turned toward the door and saw his partner giving him that square-jawed look he knew so well.
Ralph was half-expecting Bill's next move so when it came he was able to react instantly.
When Bill pulled his foot away from the closing elevator doors and stepped out into the loading dock, Ralph was already clambering up over the back of the car. He slid down the Bug's angled tail and hit the elevator floor in a crouch that easily turned into a forward roll.
He heard Pam's cry of protest as the elevator doors slid shut and he looked up into Bill's face. There was no mistaking the look of delighted amusement there before the ultra-serious Federal Agent on Duty mask fell back into place.
"That was real dumb, kid," Bill said, "And it's exactly what I woulda done."
Bill looked up at the number display over the elevator. It was already climbing up past 5. "Problem is, you got no magic jammies, no gun, and unless that tux is bullet-proof, no protection. Of course, you can always dazzle 'em with your flair for accessories."
Ralph saw Bill cock an eyebrow and stare significantly at Pam's purse clutched in his right hand. He had grabbed it instinctively while he scrambled out of the car as the only thing resembling a weapon within easy reach. Ralph shot his partner a lopsided smile.
"Don't think I can pass it off as a really gaudy grenade?" he said.
Bill smirked and stuck out a hand to pull Ralph to his feet.
"They're stupid," he said, glancing back over his shoulder out of the open loading bay. "Probably not that stupid, though. Better let me give you my spare piece."
Bill was tugging out the snub-nosed pistol he kept at the back of his waistband before Ralph could protest.
"Bill, you know I don't want to use a gun," Ralph said.
"And it looks like I don't have time to learn anyway," he went on as headlights flared at the top of the street outside. "You'd better just let me in on the plan."
"What plan?" Bill said, tucking the snub-nosed revolver back in his waistband. "This was pretty much it, kid. From here the big idea is just, 'nab the bad guys, don't get killed in the process.'"
"It's a good plan," Ralph said nodding. "Especially the last part. So what do we do?"
Bill shot him an ironic look.
"We find a good spot for an ambush," he said, tugging the service revolver back out of his leather shoulder holster. "And we shoot the bad guys before they shoot us. That's gonna be a little tricky for you, seeing as how we don't both have guns, but you're a smart guy. I'm sure you'll think of something. Come on."
Ralph trotted behind as Bill circled to the left of the loading dock. For the first time, Ralph noticed the shoulder stacks of bundled newspapers piled in neat rows parallel to the front of the bay. Most were leaning up against the many slender metal girders that supported the ceiling. Bill was hugging the back wall, keeping the stacked papers between them and the street.
"What is this place?" Ralph said, skirting around a loaded hand.
"LA Times distribution center," Bill said over his shoulder. "Never had a chance to use it before, but Saturday night's the perfect time. The 11:00 PM shift change lasts about 45 minutes. We've got the place to ourselves for another half hour."
"Bill," Ralph said as he followed his partner to a dark corner of the bay. "Should I even ask how much time do you spend scouting locations for shoot outs?"
"Times like this, you oughta be glad I got no life, kid," Bill answered, waving him over to a low desk that was half-buried in packing slips and crumpled maps.
When they were both hunkered down on the floor behind the desk, Bill gave him a calculating look.
"Is there any point in me telling you to go out the back door?" he said.
Ralph pursed his lips and appeared to think deeply for a moment.
"No," he said at last. "None at all."
Bill nodded.
"That's what I thought," he said. "Okay, here's the scenario, the way I think it's gonna pan out."
Outside, there was the sound of squeaky brake shoes and two car doors opening.
"We got, I think, three shooters outside, counting Joey," Bill said, dropping his voice to a whisper. "I don't think the girl, Mimi-"
"Mitzi," Ralph said.
"Whatever. I don't think she's a player, but you never know these days," Bill said. "What with women's lib an' all."
Two more car doors opened on the street outside and Ralph could hear several voices in whispered conversation.
"What I need you to do," Bill went on, "Is watch the big picture. If I'm focused on taking Joey out, you watch the other three. Got it?"
Ralph nodded.
"I got it," he answered. "But how are you going to-"
"Kid, when I said I didn't have a plan," Bill whispered. "I meant I didn't have a plan. Just keep your eyes open and do the best you can to stay out of the way."
Ralph bridled.
"What do you mean, stay out of the way," he said. "I didn't come out here to stay out of the way."
Bill set his jaw.
"Let me make it real simple for you, Ralph," he said, giving his guns one last inspection. "If they grab me, they've got me. But if they grab you, they've got both of us. Then who's gonna get the Counselor out of here, huh?"
Ralph took in a breath to protest, but as Bill's words sank in, he closed his mouth and nodded slowly.
"I understand," he said quietly.
Bill nodded and their eyes met. Off to the left in the darkness at the edge of the loading deck there was a faint scraping sound.
"Here we go," Bill murmured.
Bill hunched down farther behind the desk and Ralph imitated his pose. By stretching slightly, he could peer around the side of the desk and see most of the front of the loading dock. Ralph realized it was a better position than the open area by the elevator. The stacked newspapers made it almost impossible to get a straight shot at their position. Of course, the reverse was also true.
Ralph began casting around for a good vantage point to view the "big picture" as Bill called it. As his glance passed the front of the loading dock, he saw a tall man with dark hair ease himself up over the front of the dock and slide forward. In an instant he was obscured by stacks of papers. The quick glimpse was all Ralph needed to recognize him. A look at Bill's tightly focused expression told him he'd seen the dark-haired man, too.
"That was John Gold," Ralph whispered. "Or Rostopovich or whatever."
"Rostokrovinitz," Bill said. "So that must be Michael Yan we heard a minute ago. Joey'd send them in first."
Bill slipped the service revolver back into its customary spot in his leather shoulder holster. He hefted the smaller snub-nosed gun and his gaze shifted rapidly around the open space near the desk.
"You think you could climb that?" Bill asked, cocking his head at a point over his shoulder.
Ralph followed the gesture and saw a stack of half a dozen giant industrial-sized spools of plastic wrap. Probably for foul-weather deliveries, Ralph thought. Each one was a good two feet high.
"I think so," he whispered. "I'll try."
"Do it," Bill said as he eased forward onto his toes, "Get up there and keep your eyes open."
Ralph nodded. He wasn't going to be able to climb and hang on to Pam's beaded purse. It probably wasn't much use a weapon in any case, he thought. He tucked it behind a leg of the desk and scooted backward in a low crouch. As he retreated, he shot quick looks behind and to the side, alert for any movement.
He slid to the base of the stacked rolls of plastic and reached up. The sticky texture made it easy to find hand and footholds. He kept to the rear, away from the front of the loading dock. As he climbed, he felt keenly aware of his bright white tuxedo shirt.
A movement on his right caught his eye and down below he saw a pale shape slide between two stacks of papers. He remembered Bill saying, "That must be Michael Yan." The name sounded Asian. The only Asian he'd seen was the waiter who…
Ralph frowned. The waiter who hit him over the head causing the massive headache that was still thrumming behind his eyes.
The pale shape flicked past again, closer than before. Ralph could see Bill down below. His gun was pointed toward the place they'd seen Rostokrovinitz but his face was turned in Yan's direction.
As Ralph watched from above, Bill shifted, stretched one long leg out behind him and slid back away from the desk, moving crab-wise across floor. He'd traveled a dozen feet and was maneuvering back around another high row stack of papers before Ralph understood what his partner was up to.
He saw Bill's head rise and his gaze flicked upward. It was too dark to be sure, but Ralph thought he saw the agent flash a quick grin before he disappeared around the stack.
Ralph felt the blood rise in his face. Bill had wanted to get him out of the way and, like an idiot, he'd fallen for it.
There was a sharp noise from somewhere beyond the spot where Bill had disappeared. It sounded like a gun barrel being rapped against concrete. Ralph scowled in the direction of the noise. At least, he thought, it was more subtle than if Bill had shouted, "Hey, I'm over here! Come and get me you garbanzo beans!"
But the effect was the same. Ralph saw Yan's sleek, dark hair come into view below. The ersatz waiter had shed the white jacket. He had the sleeves of his oxford-style shirt rolled up to the elbows and his tie undone.
Ralph held his breath as the gunman sidled around the stack of plastic bales, almost directly below him. Bill was going to be pinned between the two gunmen.
As Ralph wondered what he could do that would be more help than harm, a shot rang out from Bill's last known location.
Yan started forward and Ralph had only a split second to think. He used it to hope he was about to land on top of 200 pounds of plastic wrap and not under it.
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- continued -
"The One the Suit Wasn't Meant For"