Pure Dynamite Page 3

  When Lyle finally reached Nevin, he was given directions to a commercial storage lot in Durham. They had headed south and were now less than fifty miles from where they'd escaped, which the cops probably wouldn't expect.

  A light rain started as Adam pulled up to the after- hours gate at the storage lot. He and Lyle had watched the place for nearly an hour, keeping an eye open for anything or anyone out of place.

  They couldn't wait any longer. The radio had just broadcast a news alert of their escape that included a report of the nondescript Taurus. No license plate number was given. With what seemed like every third car on the road being a Taurus, it wasn't much for law enforcement to go on, but it was more than Adam was comfortable with.

  It was also safe to assume their mug shots had been flashed on the evening news. Not that many people would be watching. Over half the area remained without electricity.

  A cheap neon closed sign flickered in the window of the lot's office, proof that the place had power. Adam punched in the four-digit security code Lyle rattled off. The electric gate took forever to open, shuddering and stalling twice before slowly heaving sideways an inch at a time.

  The storage lot had five long buildings crowded on it with each building holding thirty or so units. Adam passed the first building. They were looking for 18C.

  "God, we're almost home free," Lyle said. "I don't know what I want more. A piece of ass or a decent meal. I know I want a beer with either one. What about you?"

  Adam snorted at the irony. Lyle wasn't even old enough to buy alcohol. "I'll settle for a safe place to sleep."

  "Then what? You haven't said what you're doing beyond this."

  "That's right."

  "I know you wanted out of prison before they got something else on you. Something big," Lyle continued. "I couldn't figure it out until I saw that high-tech radio jammer. That had to be military. Stolen?"

  "Borrowed." Adam slowed the car. "What's your point, kid?"

  Lyle tried to act nonchalant and failed . "A guy with that kind of access could make a lot of money—provided he hooked up with the right buyer."

  "Who says I'm not?"

  "Nobody. But you did say your old partner is hesitant."

  "For now. He knows the cops will put two and two together and come looking for him when they investigate our escape."

  "See? That's exactly what I mean. Being a fugitive can put a crimp in things; might scare off your customers, too."

  "Temporarily, maybe. Long term it won't matter."

  "But what about short term, man? I know several buyers who'd pay top dollar for hardware like that jammer."

  "You? Or your daddy?" Adam didn't hide his skepticism. "If half of what you told me about your family is true, I doubt they need another supplier."

  "More than half of it's true," Lyle defended. "And for the record, I was asking for myself. I've been thinking about striking out on my own."

  Adam glanced sideways. "Back up a minute. Which half of what you've told me isn't true?"

  "Not much."

  "Define much."

  "Well, fuck-a-duck. I was going to tell you later." Lyle shifted in his seat. "My old man didn't want me breaking out. Can you believe that? He's been in prison before. He knows what it's like."

  Lyle's admission shocked Adam. Family was religion to the McEdwins. In fact, the theme of Lyle's life was blood is thicker. His incessant chatter about family, loyalty, and ties binding father to son, brother to brother, drove Adam nuts. That and all his talk about his brothers' blood oath to not be captured alive.

  "Are you saying your father wanted you to stay in the pen?"

  "Not exactly. He just wanted me to wait before making a move. But I knew you were my only chance to get out. Those guards would have killed me."

  Several things struck Adam. Lyle had been in contact with his father somehow. At least enough to communicate his intent to escape. Which meant the McEdwins had a better, more secret system of communication than he'd been led to believe.

  It also meant Lyle was expert at playing dumb when it came to his family. Adam hadn't suspected a thing. So what else was the kid hiding?

  "Did he say why he wanted you to wait?"

  "He's, uh, busy," Lyle hedged.

  Too busy for his son? Adam wondered. Or too busy planning his next big event? Maybe family—or just Lyle—wasn't as important as Willy's other priorities. Or maybe there was more truth to the rumors of dissension in the McEdwin family than Lyle would admit.

  "Truth is, I've only talked with Nevin," Lyle continued. "But he's probably contacted Pa by now."

  "Probably? I thought your family was this close?" Adam held up crossed fingers.

  "They are, most days. And we'll be fine with Nevin. He's got as many connections as my Pa does. Maybe more."

  But it wasn't the McEdwins' connections Adam was interested in. Lyle had sworn his father would help them, hide them, once they escaped. Now it seemed his brother alone was aiding them. How safe would they be?

  Lyle sat forward. "Building C is right there."

  Adam turned and stopped in front of unit 18. He killed the headlights, but left the engine running.

  A single dim bulb burned in a rusted fixture, casting uneven shadows. "Unscrew that light."

  Lyle climbed out and loosened the bulb before retrieving a key hidden in the rainspout.

  "This will only take a sec." Lyle opened the unit's overhead door then flicked the interior light on and off.

  In the flash of light, Adam saw a black Toyota sedan. Stuck on the windshield was a note. Lyle read it, then passed it to Adam.

  HEAD NORTH ON 1-85. WHEN YOU REACH RICHMOND CALL 555-0856.

  He tossed the paper back. "What kind of dim-witted game is this? Richmond's a couple hundred miles away. We could have been there hours ago. And the longer we're on the road the greater the chances of getting stopped."

  "Hey, Nevin knows what he's doing. He's a fugitive, too, remember? Besides, once we dump this Taurus, they won't have a clue what we're driving."

  "I still don't like it." Having no other choice, Adam put the car in gear. The vehicle was a definite liability now that the police were searching for it. "Get the Toyota out of there, so I can stash this one."

  After swapping cars, Lyle got out of the Toyota to secure the storage unit's door. He paused to light a cigarette, hanging back to take a couple of deep drags.

  Adam took advantage of the delay and climbed in the driver's side. If they got into a high-speed chase, he wanted to be the one behind the wheel. Especially with the rain steadily increasing.

  He put the police scanner on the dashboard. Thus far it had yielded little useful information on their escape as most law enforcement agencies continued to be inundated with flood-related problems.

  Headlights flashed behind them as another car pulled around the building and slowed.

  Adam lowered the window, his eyes glued to the rearview mirror. "Get in. Now!"

  Instead of moving away, Lyle turned and studied the car creeping toward them. "Wait. Maybe it's my brother."

  "If it's not, you just gave someone a good look at your face. Come on!"

  "Shit!" Lyle dropped his cigarette and turned back to the overhead door, fumbling with the keys.

  "Leave the damn door!"

  By now the car had pulled in close and stopped. Once the headlights shut off, Adam was able to make out its profile. It wasn't a patrol car but that didn't rule out an unmarked unit or even an outside security company making a check, though this place didn't look like the kind to spring for that type of service.

  The car's interior light came on as a man climbed out. "Hey!" he called. "What do you think you're doing there?"

  Lyle turned. "What I'm doing is none of your business."

  "Oh, yeah?" the man snapped. "You're parked right in front of my unit and I've been broken into twice."

  "Big fucking deal. Call someone who cares."

  The man swung a flashlight forward, spotlighting Lyle. I
mmediately, the man straightened and drew a pistol. "Hold it right there. Your mug shot has been all over the news, buddy."

  "I ain't your buddy," Lyle sneered, spreading his hands only slightly above waist level.

  Inside the car, the hairs on Adam's arm lifted. The man brandished the gun and the flashlight like a cop.

  Damn Lyle for not getting in the car sooner! Adam reached for one of the handguns tucked beneath the seat as he quickly debated the best way to defuse the situation without anyone getting hurt.

  "I bet that's your cellmate inside the car." The man bent slightly, trying to see Adam through the window as he directed his flashlight toward the Toyota. "You. Climb out nice and slow. And don't do anything stupid."

  The man stepped closer to the car. As he did, Lyle pulled a handgun and fired two shots.

  Adam shifted the car in gear. Where in the hell had Lyle gotten another weapon? The answer was obvious: Nevin must have left one in the Toyota.

  Dropping back to use his car door as a shield, the man returned fire. Lyle dashed around the Toyota pausing to squeeze off another shot. As he opened the passenger door the side mirror shattered in a hail of bullets.

  Swearing, Lyle fell into the front seat. "Go, goddamn it!"

  Adam punched the gas. The car fishtailed, tires squealing. "Stay down!"

  At the end of the row he headed toward the first building. He turned right but immediately stopped. Dead-end. Wheeling around, he tried another route, only to find it blocked as well. That meant there was only one way to get back to the gate: the same way they'd come in.

  In the distance, sirens wailed. Had someone, perhaps even the other man, called the police? If the fellow was indeed a cop it was likely he had a radio in his car.

  Lyle, who had for once listened to Adam and stayed down, now moved to sit up. "Are we clear yet?"

  "No." Adam retraced their original route, surprised to find the way wide open.

  But just as they shot past the unit, the man stepped out of the shadows and opened fire again.

  "Look out!" Adam had barely shouted a warning before the windshield shattered. He swerved, struggling to see through the damaged glass.

  Sparks flew as they sideswiped the building. Metal screeched against concrete as Adam fought to regain control of the car.

  "You okay?" Lyle shouted.

  "Fine." Adam eyed the closed gate, knew it would take too long to enter the code and wait for it to open. "Hang on. I'm going through it."

  Gunning the engine, he shot forward, crashing into the chain link. While the car had quick acceleration for short sprints, it lacked bulk. The rusted gate bowed, but held. The police sirens grew louder, leaving no doubt where the cruiser was headed.

  Slamming the Toyota into reverse, Adam backed up then sped forward once again, tires smoking. He didn't let up.

  This time, the gate gave way just as the rear window exploded from another bullet. Adam ducked, then glanced back. The man chased them on foot.

  "Crazy bastard! I'll fix him." Grunting, Lyle leaned halfway out the window and fired three more rounds.

  Driving with one hand, Adam grabbed Lyle's shirt and tried to stop him. "Now you're giving him a perfect target."

  Lyle slumped against the seat, breathing heavy. "Too late. But at least I got him."

  Automatically Adam hit the brakes. "You shot him?"

  "Winged him, I think... The jackass didn't even go down!"

  They were on the main road. Already flashing blue lights were speeding up the highway behind them.

  "Go!" Lyle shrieked.

  Cursing, Adam floored it, but the patrol car closed in. It was over. They were circling the drain. A choking rage burned in his throat.

  At the last second, the patrol car turned sharply and disappeared into the storage lot. Adam looked twice in disbelief then jammed the gas pedal to the floor. The cop turning off only bought them a few minutes, because backup units would undoubtedly be en route.

  At the first intersection, he turned into a residential neighborhood. The car hit a water-filled pothole so deep it scraped the undercarriage.

  Slowing, Adam vented his temper. "What were you doing back there? Why the hell didn't you just get in the car like I told you?"

  "I was trying to ... help."

  "Help?" Without taking his eyes off the road, Adam held out his right hand. "You can start by handing me that gun. Or I pull over and throw you out."

  When Lyle hesitated Adam hit the brakes. "Have it your way."

  "Wait, man. Here." Lyle passed the gun.

  The grip was wet, sticky, and nearly slid from Adam's hand.

  "What the—?" With an escalating sense of disaster, he glanced at the other man. "Is that what I think it is?"

  "Yeah." Lyle let out a low moan. "That son of a bitch shot me!"

  It was late when Renata finished her last patient. Janet, a nursing student who worked part-time at the clinic, was still at the reception desk talking with Beth Gianno, a first-year resident.

  "Looks like we may close on time tonight after all," Janet said. "It's quarter till ten and the lobby is empty. And I expected to be here half the night with standing- room-only crowds."

  Renata nodded. "Me, too. But when I spoke to the hospital earlier, they said people weren't expecting us to be open. They posted a notice in the emergency room, but most folks don't want to venture back out once they get there."

  "Can't blame them." Janet shrugged. "Road conditions aren't great and now it's raining again. Tomorrow will be a disaster."

  "You can say that again," Beth said. "Mercury went retrograde today. Everything that can go wrong will— for the next two weeks. Mark my words. Tonight's rain is only the beginning."

  "Is a retrograde like a full moon when all the freaks and weirdos climb out from under their rocks?" Janet yawned. "It's usually the only time I get asked out anymore."

  Beth rolled her eyes. "Retrogrades are astrological occurrences, reported to be fairly accurate. You should read the statistics on surgical recovery times during retrogrades. A group of French doctors did a study."

  "French doctors? Oo, la, la." Janet perked up and sat forward. "You know, I read a study, too. It claimed Frenchmen make the greatest lovers because they're strong-willed, yet charming."

  "Funny, I heard the same thing about Italians," Renata said. "And Swedes."

  Beth peered over the rim of her glasses. "Ahem. We were discussing retrogrades. As in planets, astrology."

  "Then I plead ignorance. I can't make sense of the newspaper horoscopes." Renata held up her hands palms out. "I was looking for Richard. Has he left already?" Richard was the clinic's senior staff member and her mentor.

  "He's writing 'scrips for his last patient," Janet said. "Then we're all going to my place for frozen pizza since I have electricity. Want to come?"

  "Can't. Too much paperwork." Renata pointed to her overflowing in box. Seemed like a never-ending pile. "It'll take me half the night just to sort it."

  "Oops! Almost forgot these." Janet held up four pink phone message slips. As always, when the clinic was shorthanded calls went to the answering machine. "I just retrieved them off voice mail."

  Renata frowned at the first message, call david med- dard at work. The next read david meddard at home. The third was his cell phone.

  "Let me guess. Number four is his pager," she mumbled, dropping them in the trash. Maybe there was something to this retrograde stuff after all.

  "Actually, one's from your mom," Janet hissed in a stage whisper.

  "Great." Renata rifled through the trash and retrieved one of the slips, call your mother—no matter how late.

  Renata checked the beeper clipped to her waistband. The display blinked with only the date and time. No calls. That meant it wasn't urgent—her mother had her pager number for emergencies.

  But the fact that her mother had called her at work instead of at home was telling. As telling as David leaving three messages.

  Janet escorted Richard's patient
to the door and locked it behind him. "There went the last one. Sure we can't talk you into joining us?" She looked at Renata and batted her eyes. "I want to hear more about your experiences with Italians and Swedes. Like who's hung better? And who has better staying power?"

  Renata opened her mouth to reply then closed it. Could she honestly remember? Back in her younger days—she'd be thirty in three months—she used to know. She used to have an active sex life. But then she entered med school. And married. Divorced.

  Crap—how long had it been?

  Richard, who had joined them, frowned at Renata. "Penny for your thoughts?"

  Not on your life. Renata cleared her throat. "I was just telling Janet I can't make it tonight."

  "Why not? You are entitled to a social life, you know.

  In fact I wanted to tell you about a colleague who's in town."

  "He isn't by chance Italian or Swedish is he?" Janet teased.

  Richard looked from one woman to the next. "I'm afraid to ask why. Actually, he's the all American type who—"

  Janet laughed. "Save your breath, Rich. I've been trying to tempt Renata with men for months. But apparently you can't have a social life and save the world too."

  "I'm not trying to save the world. Just a few city blocks," Renata defended. "And I have one last report to finish for this grant. Then I'll get a social life."

  "I want a sex life," Beth chimed in. "I've heard we're allowed to reclaim our libido after our second year of residency."

  "Which is why I opted for nursing. I couldn't go that long," Janet said.

  "Sounds like I just missed another stimulating discussion," Richard deadpanned.

  "Nah. We'll pick it back up over pizza. Come on." Janet grabbed her backpack, fished out car keys. "By the way, the drug cabinet's ready for pickup."

  "Wait up," Richard called to Beth and Janet. He turned back to Renata. "If you still want me to look over your report, leave it on my desk. I'll look at it first thing."

  "Thanks. I owe you one."

  Richard grinned and shrugged into his raincoat. "Good. Because my friend is in town for another two days.