A/N: Whooooo! Car chases! Lol. Ever since having watched The Dukes Of Hazzard, watching car chases
was like breathing to me. Well, maybe not breathing cos I'd be dead now. But like, a daily thing.

ELEVEN

The morning sun in the east flashed once in his eyes, and then he was through it, heading south. The first corner was thirty yards ahead. Traffic was very slow. Not stopped, just snail-like slow as if people didn't have enough problems. The light caught him six cars back from the turn. He was in the right lane, and he had no angle to see into the mouth of the cross street. Traffic poured right to left out of it, ahead of him, six cars away. There was still no sign of the ideal car that the men could be in. Maybe it was parked somewhere. Just there waiting for him to fuck up. Spence drove across the intersection with half of his attention focused sideways. Nothing there.

A few minutes later, he was three cars back. She watched him. He was so tense. Just so tense. Maybe he didn't feel comfortable with her around anymore. They had had fun when they were kids but now, he acted so serious. Like a body guard…a body guard who forgot his seatbelt and his own safety. He only cared for her physically, acting like he owed it to her mother and it really ticked her off. Was this a burden to him? Seeing her was a problem? The light went green and the first car took off, then the second, then the third. He eased forward and checked everything out. Two lanes of stopped traffic, waiting at the light. Nothing parked up in the right lane. Nothing waiting.

He breathed out and relaxed and faced forward. There was a huge metallic bang. A tremendous loud metallic punch in his back, only it kept coming and coming. Tearing sheet metal, instant violent acceleration. The Ferrari was hurled forward and smashed into the vehicle ahead and stopped dead. Kathryn's airbag exploded and she was bouncing off her seat and crashing against the tension of her belt, her body stopping abruptly, her head still cannoning forward. Then it was bouncing backward off the airbag and whipping and smashing into the headrest behind her. His airbag exploded a split second after hers did and the twin impacts had torn his hands off the wheel. The airbag was collapsing in front of him.

"…They would do the amateur way but if I was going to kidnap someone…" King looked at him. "I would've done it in a way the target would never have expected."

He dragged his eyes to the mirror and felt wetness on the side of his head, he saw a giant black hood buried in the back of the Ferrari. One guy was in it, blurred by his vision due to the impact. He looked…so….familiar--His eyes widened and he was taken back to reality with a long and loud honk from a car behind them. Shit! There was a loud hissing coming from the Ferrari. Steam from the radiator or maybe just the ringing from his ears after the enormous sudden sounds. The guy was smiling at him, and he knew he could be seen.

Spence stamped on the gas, looking at the rear view mirror all the while. Kathryn gasped in surprise and held onto something, screaming. The Ferrari struggled forward, pushing against the woman's wrecked FTO. It made a yard, slewing to the left, sheet metal screeching. "What the fuck are you doing!" Kathryn screamed.

"You'll see!"

He saw another guy on the rear view mirror. Grabbing at the door handle at the back seat, his other hand in his pocket. The same guy he saw back at house. "Fuck!" Spence yelled. "Get the fuck down, Katy!" He found reverse and howled back the yard he'd made and smashed into the car behind him but the guy was gone and out of the car when he looked again.

It won him another yard. He shoved the selector into drive and Kathryn looked at him with horror, shaking her head wildly, "No, no, no, no, no, nooooo!" she screamed as he spun the wheel and barged left. He stamped on the gas and hurled the Ferrari backward, spinning the wheel, beside him, Kathryn was praying, "Please make my fucking car leave the street in one piiieeeccceee!" The guy kept a tight hold, jerked backward by his arm, flung off his feet by the violent motion. Spence smashed all the way backward into the black car and bounced off again forward, screaming the motor, spinning the wheel. The guy was up again, still gripping the door handle, jerking and hauling. Spence locked all the doors. The guy's spare arms and legs were flailing, like he was a wrangler and the Ferrari was a wild young steer in a desperate fight out of a trap.

Spence mashed the pedal and angled out forward close to the rear corner of the wrecked FTO and scraped the guy off against the trunk. In the mirror, Spence saw a blur of flailing arms and legs as his momentum carried him up over the roof. "Spence!" Kathryn screamed. The other guy was back behind the car, driving fast beside him, struggling to free something from his pocket. Spence was shocked when he realised who it was, everything happening in slow motion, a swirl of panic overcoming him and, then…- BAM! -…"D'ANGELO!" Everything returned back in an instant and Spence swerved left, the bullet hitting the side of the Ferrari, he came in parallel to a panel truck in the next lane. The first guy was up and running, skipping sideways, holding the door handle, coming out with something from his pocket.

"Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit!" Spence jammed left again and thumped him hard against the side of the car. He heard a dull boom as the guy's head hit the metal and then he was gone. The other car jammed to a panic stop and Spence hauled left and got in front of it. Ahead of him was a shimmering patchwork of metallic colours, sedan roofs winking in the sun, dodging left, dodging right, crawling forward, fumes rising, horns blasting. He hauled left again and turned and went through a crosswalk against the light, a crowd of jostling people skittering out of his way. The Ferrari was juddering and bouncing and pulling hard to the right. Steam was boiling up through the gaps around the buckles hood. The collapsed airbag was hanging down to his knees.

"Just for the record---I'm going to grill your freakin ass after this!" Kathryn said.

"Dully noted!" Spence jerked forward and hauled left again and jammed into an alley full of restaurant waste. Boxes, empty drums of cooking oil, rough wooden trays piled with spoiled vegetables. He buried the nose in a pile of cartons. They spilled down on the wrecked hood and fell inside Kathryn's window, some bouncing off the windshield. Spence killed the motor and pulled the keys. He had put it too close to the wall for Kathryn's door to open. First thing first, he had to get her to safety. "Give me your fucking license!" she screamed at him, absolutely terrified, breathing hard. He laughed slightly, "What license?"

She stared at him as he grabbed her suitcase and her purse and threw them out through his door. Squeezed out after them and turned back for her. "Come on, Katy." She glared at him, gave him the finger and then took his hand gratefully. "Yeah, well. Your welcome." he said, amused by the fast recovery. Her dress was riding up. He grabbed her around the waist and she ducked her head to his shoulder, she smiled to herself.

"Now I remember how bad your driving was."

"Oh, now we're just hurting each other's feelings!"

Spence lifted her through the gap and she clung on hard, bare legs around his waist. He turned and walked six feet away, carrying her and her belongings.

"Oh, please. You have no feelings. Your like a big evil robot to me…a robot with the worst brain for ideas. Seriously, bad ideas just flow through you."

He looked surprised and hurt. "What bad ideas?"

"Remember the time when you…" and she went on and on.

--In times like these, it's best to turn off your ears. I mean…just pull the plug because your not gonna here anything good anyways--

After five minutes, she asked, "Are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry." he said. "My ears are out of order. The only thing they can't hear is bullshit."

She groaned, "Oh, this is exactly what I'm talking about! See? This is what's wrong with you. You just…" Mute. Total silence.

---See? Just nod and pretend your listening even though you've just agreed to the part that you're a f-- beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeep Phew. I think that took longer than a commercial break. O-kies, moving on!---

Her hair smelled like lavender and it reminded him of the cold, painful reality. Apart from Kathryn, there was no one else he really cared about. The others had all left…like everyone else in his life after his wife had died. His wife. Saying the word killed every happy, cheerful inch of him. Everytime. And he still had her things. Their things. Holding them at night, wishing she was still alive and drinking his way through till' morning, and when he wakes up, he gets the same dreadful feeling that whatever happened in his dreams, she would never be alive again. She'd never be alive. She's gone.

Spence set her on her feet and handed her back her bags, quiet. She was smoothing her dress over her thighs. Breathing hard. Damp hair all over the place. "How did you know that it wasn't some accident?" Spence handed her the purse and carried the heavy suitcase himself. Led her by the hand back down the alley to the street, running a hand down his hair, while trying to get rid of the blood, he was panting with adrenaline rush. "Walk and then, talk." He turned left and headed east. The morning sun was in their eyes, the river breeze in their faces. Behind them, they could hear the traffic snarl. They walked together fifty yards, breathing hard, calming down.

"Let me ask you something: what were the chances we'd be in an accident on the exact same morning we figured there were guys out looking for us?" Spence asked, out of breath, watching her reaction. She nodded. A slight smile on her face, head up, shoulders back, recovering fast. No trace of shock. She was Josephine Royals' daughter, that was for damn sure. "I'm sorry about the car?" He tried. She continued to smile and look ahead, "Stop reminding me or I swear I'll break your arm."

"Report it stolen. Say that someone else had taken it and crashed it. I can't afford being asked questions…I don't even have a license." Spence said. Kathryn thought about it. Then she smiled. "That works." she turned to him. "Ok…I mean, I know this really cool guy who can fix cars and make them look brand new…in 24 hours, 12 if he's enthusiastic and drunk. So, that's fine. I'll call people from the office." Spence looked surprised, "The office? You're not going to the damn office." And she was just as surprised as he was, "Why not?"

He waved vaguely back towards where the accident had occurred. "After what happened back there? Hell no. I want you were I can see you, Katy." he paused. "Think of me as Mrs. Norris, ya know? The one who used to baby-sit us when we were kids? Except I don't smell…" he said, before adding, "…and I'm not a woman."

"But I need to go to work, Spence." she said. "And be logical. The office hasn't become unsafe just because of what happened over there. It's a completely separate proposition, right? The office is still as safe now as it always was. You said it was okay before, what the hell changed?" He looked at her. He wanted to say everything's changed.

But he didn't, so he just shrugged lamely, "You should come with me," he said. "Why? To help you?" He hesitated then nodded. "You want me with you because I'm…Josephine's daughter?" she asked again. He looked at her, his eyes pleading and she knew the answer. Kathryn turned away and spotted a cab, she waved it down.

"Wrong answer, Spence."

He argued with her, but got nowhere. Her mind was made up, and she wouldn't change it. It was either go to work or just waltz right into the killers' hands. Which would you choose if you were an injured guy, without a car, without a weapon, and without help. The best he could do was to get her to solve his immediate problem and rent him a car, with her gold card and her licence or fix the Ferrari. They took a cab and found this place and Spence waited outside in the sun for half an hour. Kathryn came around the block, riding in a brand new motorbike. She pulled the helmet off and pushed her hair behind her ears.

Spence stepped away from it, staring. "Oh no…" he looked up at her, eyes like saucers. "…I am not getting in that thing." He said, looking back at the motorbike. "Why? You scared of motorbikes?" Kathryn asked in a caring motherly tone. Okay. Pause riggghhhht here. Ironic, ain't it? Half an hour ago, Kathryn was the scared one and Spence was the 'caring' one. The one in control. But now…Play, un-pause, whatever…it was like being with completely different people. "No!" he argued. And then, he softened, returning to his anxious disposition. "…I just…hate it, that's all."

"Aww. Poor baby." Kathryn said. "Why?"

"Because of bad experience…"

"Fuck it, Abby! What the hell are you doing!"

"What bad experience?"

"I just don't fuckin want to, alright?" Spence shouted, causing heads to turn and people to stop and watch. Kathryn stared at him for a moment then slowly stood up. Spence looked at her and was forced to take a few step backwards. "Aw, come here you little asshole." He had expected her to slap him and tell him to get a grip but she didn't do that. Instead, she did this: Two women passing by stopped and looked. One turned to the other, smiling, "Aw, what a cute couple. That is such a wonderful boyfriend." The other nodded and they kept walking, "Hm-Hm. I wish my boyfriend can be all cute when he's scared…"

Yep. She did that. She hugged him. What a brave little woman…I salute you. "You wanna get in the motorbike now, Dr. D?" Eventually, she got him near the motorbike and soon they were on their way and Spence had relaxed. "You know what, Katy?" She smiled, "Yeah?"

"Your not as dangerous and scary as my other friend." He said. "Don't take me in for some softy, though, 'kay?" Kathryn said and Spence laughed nervously, "Hell no. I will never forget when you…when you…Ah, fuck it. That time really hurt." They passed by her building and passed by the scene of the ambush. The damaged vehicles were gone. There were shards of glass in the gutter and oil stains on the blacktop, but that was all. She drove on a few blocks to her office and parked on a space opposite her office door. Left the motor running, got off and Spence eased forward. "Ok. This is where you pick me up…about eight o'clock, 'kay?"

"That late?"

"Well, I'm kinda late so I'm pretty sure I have to make up for that."

"Come on, I ain't waitin that long…"

She paused and looked him up and down, narrowing her eyes. "That sounded like a southern accent or something…"

He looked at her, agitated. "Kathryn."

"Okay. Okay. About seven then."

"Don't leave the building, Katy. Katy! Kathryn!" He sighed and put on the helmet and watched her all the way inside. There was a broad paved area in front of the building. Kathryn skipped across it, bare legs flashing and dancing under the dress. She turned and smiled and waved. That was enough for him to know that she understood. She pushed sideways through the revolving door, swinging her heavy case. It was a tall building, maybe sixty or seventy storeys. Probably dozens of suites rented to dozens of separate firms, maybe hundreds. But the situation looked like it might be safe enough. "Should I really trust this hellhole, King?" he asked himself.King nudged him and raised his bottle of beer at the TV. "Look at that. In real life, amateur killers wouldn't get in so easily. The place is safe enough, Look at it this way…"

"…There's a reception counter immediately inside that building--" There was a wide reception counter immediately inside the revolving door. "--Couple of security guys--" A line of security people were sitting behind it, "--and the usual solid glass screen--" and behind them was a solid glass screen, wall to wall, floor to ceiling, with one opening in it. "…and there's one opening, operated by a tiny fucking buzzer under the counter." Behind the screen were the elevators. "And there's no way in, unless the security guys saw fit to let you in…Depends on the diligence of the doormen."

"How do you know this stuff, King?"

"………Because I used to be a cop."

Reeford Royals hurried across the plaza and inside to the elevators. He was sweating, The chill of the lobby air struck through his jacket and he rode the express up to the right floor. He stepped out and walked through the narrow corridor and into Nightshade's brass-and-oak lobby for the second time that week. Funny thing was, he had no idea what the hell he was doing there. What he was going to say. Why he was going to say it. Basically, he doesn't know shit, right now. But this time, the receptionist was gone and now, Nightshade was the one sitting behind her counter. On the other side of the lobby, two men in expensive suits were coming out of a small kitchen, one carrying two mugs in one hand and the other guy was carrying some donuts. Reeford could see steam rising and brown froth swirling in the mugs. He between the men and Danny, who was anxiously smoking a cigarette while playing with what seemed like a Game Boy.

"Mr. Nightshade." Reeford said, failing to hold back a squeak from his voice. He was terrified because if anything at all went wrong, it was his daughter that would pay the price. And he loved his daughter very much. They ignored him. The first guy walked over to the counter and set one of the mugs in front of Daniel, then he walked back behind Reeford and put himself nearer the lobby door. "Here you go, Wes." the other one said and Reeford guessed that these two were close. He was right, too. "…Got you guys some donut." he said, placing the plastic bag in beside the coffee. Daniel inhaled then exhaled smoke, moving the cigarette around with his mouth so that he could move his lips and talk.

"Ranks' Racl."

"You should stop smoking." The man called Carl said. "Bad for the lungs." He rubbed his stomach for effect. Danny watched him curiously, briefly looking away from the Game Boy, "Carl…that's not where your lungs are." Carl rolled his eyes at him and walked away, "What-ever." he said in a girly, matter-of-fact tone, not accepting that he had been wrong. "Mr Nightshade." Reeford said again, looking straight ahead. Danny paused the game and set the toy down on the counter. He leaned forward and rotated the coffee mug, carefully adjusting the angle of the handle until it was presented comfortably to his grasp, "You like games, Reese?"

Reeford felt a chill down his spine as Danny looked up at him with cold, merciless eyes. He swallowed hard and choked out an answer, "I don't see what that's got to do with anything."

"Makes me either like you or hate you." Danny said casually as if they were discussing whether he liked this or that from a movie or something. "You watch Wrestling?" Reeford slowly shook his head, bewildered. "Aw, you damn well should!" he said, slamming the mug down onto the counter, "You should watch Nick Foley, love that guy. Absolutely fucking crazy."

"Mr…Mr.…Nightshade." Reeford tried for the third and final time. Danny relaxed back in his chair, busy with a cream donut, interested because a particular scene from a particular movie popped up into his head. Ya'll know that cream donut scene from the Van Wilder movie? But Reeford couldn't say anything, he just stared at him, blankly. If anything, everything he could say would come out in a jumble. "I figured you'd come back…to try talk some sense." He said it calmly, quietly, in a matter-of-fact voice, not moving at all. Then, there was silence and Reeford was sure all eyes were on him. No sound. Just faint background noises booming elsewhere in the building, and the thumping in Reeford's chest. All he wanted was his family. His wife, Janie and his daughter, Kathryn. He just wanted to see them so bad…

His eyes started adjusting into the gloom and the silence was unsettling him. He had absolutely no idea how to react to this. He glanced around. Run. Fight back. Tell him whose boss. But his legs would not move. It was like being paralysed as he stood still, a yard in front of the counter, rigid with outrage and humiliation. And fear. "As far as I'm concerned, I own you…" Danny said and Reeford stared at him, his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out of it. And Reeford squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that this was another screwed up dream but when he opened them, it finally sunk in. Danny looked up at him and laughed softly, eyes clouded.

"I'm so sorry."

Janie Royals had decided to clean the house to tip-top shape for her husband, who came home the previous night with saying a word to her. Thinking about it, she turned lamps on everywhere. She had read that to turn them on was a clear message the house was gloomy. Better to have them on from the outset, which was a clear message of cheerful welcome. She wanted to see first how good the house looked after she cleaned it up before she showed Reeford. Janie ran back down the stairs. In the family room, she opened the blind all the way to show off the pool. Then, the doorbell rang and she froze. Did she have time to change? Did Reeford come earlier than he said he would? Maybe. Maybe not. He was at the door, right now, ringing the bell. The doorbell rang again.

Janie took a breath and shook her hips to loosen the fabric of her dress and walked down the hall. Took another breath and opened the door. But it wasn't Reeford. In fact, it wasn't anybody she knew but he looked good. He was a tallish man, maybe fifty or sixty, grey, in a dark suit, standing side-on, looking out and back at the plantings along the driveway. She started a smile. Was this the client her secretary had told her about? The rich man that could mean jackpot to her career? "Hello, can I help you?" she said brightly, and held out her hand. He turned back from the garden to face her. He stared straight at her, frankly and blatantly and she found herself staring back. He said nothing to her as he looked down at her extended hand. He paused then brought his hand up to meet it. But it wasn't a hand.

"Hello Mrs Royals. My name's Conan Nightshade."

It was a shining metal hook.

"I'm so sorry."