We were in two lanes of inward-bound traffic now. The Miata wove through other cars expertly, passing on both sides, but it couldn’t slip away from me. I was holding on so far. And I had my Glock out again.
When the driver tried another surprise right, I was ready for it. The taxi’s outside wheels barely held the pavement, but I made the turn with an inch or two of safety.
A tree-lined residential block appeared ahead. I spotted pedestrians.
My chest tightened up. Kids would be out on a nice night like this. The coupe wasn’t slowing down. She was barreling straight ahead, even picking up speed.
I laid on the horn! Maybe I could keep the road clear of people. The coupe rocketed up several blocks, and all I could do was follow at a close distance. If you ain’t first, you’re last. Ricky Bobby in Talladega Nights.
When the driver tried the next turn, the street was too narrow for the speed. The Miata slowed sharply—and I came up fast on her.
I slammed into the back fender again, not exactly on purpose this time. I knew I’d just messed up the taxi pretty good.
The coupe fishtailed around the corner and hopped up onto the sidewalk, then somebody’s lawn. I heard a woman’s scream in the darkness. Two people dove out of the way.
My focus narrowed and also intensified. I saw the Best Western up ahead. What the hell? On top of everything else, I had just been taken on a giant circle jerk ride around Baltimore and the harbor area.
It wasn’t until I saw the highway up ahead that I got it. The driver had figured out how to outrun me.
And I couldn’t let her do that!
Chapter 70
BREE’S VOICE WAS BACK in my earphone. “Keep all exits secure. Repeat. Keep all exits secure!” She was obviously in control. I wished I could say the same. “Alex? Alex? Can you hear me? Alex?”
“Bree! I’m here!”
“What’s going on? Talk to me. Where is here? Are you okay?”
The coupe took exactly the turn I thought it would and paralleled the thruway toward I-95. We were only a block from the hotel now, our starting point. This whole trip had been another game, hadn’t it? Was that right?
“Whoever it is, they’re going for the highway! The Miata’s headed to I-95! I still might take her.”
“Where, Alex? Which entrance?”
“Right by the damn hotel!”
I gripped the wheel, ready to take the ramp, but then the coupe flew right by it! A second later, so did I.
Now what?
Almost at the same time, the coupe’s brake lights showed. I heard the skid and saw the car do nearly a one eighty.
Even as I slammed my brakes, the Miata accelerated back in my direction. It swerved to miss me, and before I could even get turned around, the coupe was up the ramp, still accelerating. And gone in a cloud of dust.
“North on 95!” I yelled for Bree. “I’m still on her tail! For the moment.”
I sped up to the highway and maxed out the taxi at close to a hundred for a couple of exits. Eventually, I took my foot off the accelerator and slammed my fist into the passenger seat.
I turned around at the next exit.
Back at the hotel, Bree and Sampson were waiting out front, along with half a dozen Baltimore cruisers, their roof lights flashing in the darkness. Most of the Unhinged crowd was outside too, loving every second of this chaos and madness.
A three-hundred-pound biker with a white beard came charging up to me in the parking lot. “Hey, man, what the hell happened out there?”
“Get away,” I said without stopping. The biker cut me off again. He had on about a hundred-year-old Grateful Dead T.
“Just tell me—”