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Dustin let go. His eyes shone like cracked marbles. “What’s wrong with you?”
Von shoved Ritter into the passenger compartment, climbed in after him, and slammed the door. Friedrich jumped behind the wheel and put the huge vehicle in gear.
The Hummer lurched forward, tires spinning, and slewed across the dirt in a brown swirl of dust. Von braced himself on the seat, pistol raised. Dustin’s chest rose and fell. His gaze was frightened and resentful. Peyton cringed into a ball on the backseat, sobbing, fingers jammed in her mouth. Beside her, Kyle Ritter stared at Von, his face blank and hard.
Autumn sat rigid, blinking like an otter in the sunlight, fingers clenching the plush red seat. Lark and Noah had tumbled to the floor beside Jo. They looked like stunned fish.
Von held the gun steady. “Everybody lock your hands behind your head.”
They cinched their fingers behind them. The narrow road rose up the mountainside. Friedrich accelerated. The Hummer had power, but in the altitude the engine labored. The trees whipped past. Von wiped his hand under his nose.
He gestured to Jo and Gabe. “Pockets. Empty ’em.”
They threw their phones across the limo. Von scooped them up.
He nodded at Gabe. “Back pocket too, hombre.”
Reluctantly Gabe took out his folded buck knife and slid it across the carpet to him.
“Nobody move. Not a muscle.” Von climbed over the bench seat into the driver’s compartment.
Peyton’s sobs subsided to whimpers. Autumn was shaking. “Grier.” She turned to Dustin, buried her face against his shoulder, and cried. He whispered in her ear, “Quiet.”
In the driver’s compartment, Friedrich shot Von a crazed look. “What do we do?”
“We keep driving. We get there, and then we deal with it.”
“You know that Dane’s gonna flip,” Friedrich said.
“Shut up.”
“And Sabine’s gonna have your balls for breakfast.”
Jo’s stomach was cramping. Von, Friedrich, Dane, Sabine. They were being kidnapped by the damned Trapp Family Singers.
Ritter looked stunned. “My first scenario. I can’t believe it.”
Gabe said, “You work for Edge Adventures?”
“Started this week,” Ritter said.
“You see this gang before today?”
“No. Just Mr. Coates, the head guy. And I don’t know where he is.”
He’s in the luggage compartment, Jo thought.
The asphalt ran out and the road became packed gravel. It kicked under the tires, loud and insistent. The Hummer bumped over a rut and everybody jostled against one another.
Von leaned toward Friedrich. Low and hard, he said, “We can’t just dump them by the roadside.”
Ritter whispered to Jo. “I thought something was wrong when these people showed up. They seemed surprised to see me.”
They crossed a bridge. The tires droned on the concrete. Jo caught a glimpse of whitewater in the river below.
Dustin inhaled. “We gotta do something.”
Noah, the quieter of the two college boys, murmured, “What?”
Von turned and stared at them. The gun loitered in his hand. “Keep quiet.” He turned back to Friedrich. “This is a clusterfuck of major proportions. We got three people we never counted on and the kids know what’s happening. We have to keep going. All we can do is get to the location and lock everybody down.”
Friedrich shook his head. “We’re screwed.”
“We’re screwed worse if we toss them out someplace.”
Friedrich glanced in the mirror, and Jo’s stomach gripped. She was afraid he was thinking, Only if we toss them out alive.
The Hummer boated over the gravel. The road was curving up a steep gorge. The tires ran along the road’s edge, close to a drop-off.
“Just don’t slow down,” Von said. “Volvo’s two hours behind us. We get there, we lock everybody down, we think it through.”
Dustin gritted his teeth and hissed, “We should jump them.”
Gabe gave him a slow, considered look. “What are you talking about?”
“We outnumber them. We can take them by surprise. Get control of the car.”
Peyton shook her head, quick little movements. “No,” she whispered. “Grier. No, no, no.”
The road curved strongly, following the river in a hard continuous turn. Everybody slid toward the left side of the limo. The vehicle bumped over the uneven gravel surface. The trees grew thick on the right side of the road. The mountains rose behind. The gorge yawned on their left.
Jo scrambled onto a seat and buckled her seat belt. Autumn watched and did likewise.
Dustin lowered his voice to a sharp whisper. “We can swarm them.”
Gabe didn’t move. “Bad idea.”
Dustin looked at Noah. “We can take them.”
Von glanced at them, suspicious, but they were speaking too quietly to be overheard. He resumed his manic dialogue with Friedrich.
Dustin’s breathing picked up. He whispered, “They’re going to kill us all.”
“This is not the place,” Gabe said.
Dustin turned to him, pale, almost seasick. “And who are you, some guy who works at USF? Me and Noah and Ritter here, we charge. Three on one. You can sit here with your girlfriend if you want, but we have at least three men who can do this.”
Gabe’s eyes flashed, briefly, and dimmed again. “Not yet. Not here.”
His gaze slid toward the window. The Hummer was rocketing along the rutted gravel road, bouncing like a runaway covered wagon. To their left, an eroded gradient dropped into the depths of the gorge. There was no guardrail.
Jo whispered, “Dustin, look outside. Don’t be rash.”
They had no margin for error. The gorge was so deep that she couldn’t see the bottom. The light swept across the interior of the limo as they continued to bowl around the long, sweeping bend.
Friedrich’s hands jerked back and forth on the wheel like a cartoon character’s. “We are screwed. Royally.”
“Shut up.”
Von got out a cell phone and punched numbers. As he did, a chime echoed from his pocket. Jo recognized the sound: It was her phone, sending a message. Von pulled her cell out.
Dustin’s breathing accelerated. “He’s distracted.”
Dustin tensed. Gabe shot out an arm to grab him, but Dustin was beyond reach and in motion. Shouting like a wild man, he threw himself at the front seat.
Von heard the disturbance and turned, phone to his ear. Dustin lunged into the driver’s compartment and tackled him.
Friedrich’s head whipped around. “Shit—”
Gabe moved too, fast as a snake. Ritter was a beat behind him.
Jo saw Dustin’s flailing legs and grunting face. He was fighting Von for control of the gun. Noah scrambled toward the melee. The pistol waved in Von’s hand. Jo watched it swing. She couldn’t possibly reach it. She couldn’t get anywhere close to helping.
Friedrich gaped and lifted his foot off the gas.
“No,” Von yelled.
“Faster—don’t let them jump out.” Friedrich slammed on the power again. The Hummer leapt forward.
With Dustin in the way, Gabe couldn’t get close enough to grab Von’s gun. Instead, he swept his right arm around the headrest, grabbed Von by the hair, and smashed his head against the door frame.
“Dustin, aim the gun away from us,” Gabe said.
Von twisted and submarined and kicked like a trapped bull. Gabe slammed his head against the door frame again. With his left hand he gouged at Von’s eyes. Von’s knees came up and his feet kicked the dash and the gearshift and the windshield. Friedrich turned his head.
Von’s boot connected with it. Hard.
Friedrich’s head snapped sideways. He jerked the wheel.
Jo had a sick, falling sensation. No, don’t. Stay on the road.
Friedrich hauled the wheel back and straightened out.
The gun in Von’s hand fired.
Jo ducked. Peyton and Lark screamed. The windshield spidered and the Hummer swerved. Von kicked furiously. The pistol waved in the air. Dustin clawed at Von’s hand, trying to grab the gun.
“No, turn the barrel away from us,” Gabe repeated. “Pin his hand against the dash and aim the gun away.”
Von’s legs muscled wildly back and forth. Ritter dived for his knees. Gabe continued battering Von’s head against the door frame. Von weakened. The Hummer veered left.
Jo yelled, “Steer. Hold the wheel and stop the car.”
Lark threw herself onto a seat and grabbed a seat belt. She wrapped her arm through the shoulder strap and gripped it like a vine. The Hummer shuddered. The left front wheel caught the lip of the hill. Friedrich jerked the wheel, fighting, foot still to the floor. Jo saw Autumn’s eyes gleaming with fright.
From the driver’s compartment came grunts and shouts. The gun boomed again. Then again. Glass shattered and Friedrich’s hands dropped from the wheel.
The Hummer straightened momentarily and tilted. The light turned in the sky, shadow overtaking the window.
“Oh my God,” Autumn said.
Then everything went sideways, fast. Jo hit whoever was next to her. She cried out. She saw Gabe, arms around the headrest, gripping Von’s head. He let go, grabbed a seat belt, and braced himself. He snapped the buckle and grabbed for Lark.
The front of the Hummer angled down, sliding, fast. Through the window Jo saw the slope, covered with trees and boulders.
They flipped.
The Hummer capsized, hard. The roof of the car hit the slope with a crunching sound. The windows shattered. People flew around the interior of the limo. Jo hung on to the shoulder strap of her seat belt like a commuter in a subway car that had just been kicked into a tumble cycle. The gorge steepened, and upside down, they slid forward down the slope. Jo saw light, shadow, felt the roof crushing. Dust blew through the shattered windows. She saw boulders and the silver glint of water at the bottom of the gorge. Her mind went firework white. They were going down, all the way.
Chapter 12 (#ulink_832cac0c-0125-554c-b853-172f80131f38)
Evan Delaney paused at the foot of the marble staircase. She wanted to look meek and inconspicuous. Luckily, in the vaulted echo chamber of San Francisco City Hall, that wasn’t hard. City Hall looked like the U.S. Capitol, but gaudier. It had a gilded dome. It flashed a little leg. She backed against the banister and watched the man in the pin-striped suit descend the stairs toward her.
The word ambush had a lovely ring to it. It was full of hope.
The man came down the stairs slowly, his white hair bouffanting like a televangelist’s. He was surrounded by minions. He was a mortgage banker who had been testifying before the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. He had also been a client of the dead lawyer Phelps Wylie, and he was her last hope for an interview.
He drew near. She stepped out from the banister.
“Mr. Higgins, I have some questions about Phelps Wylie,” she said.
The minions rushed to block her, like a flannel wall. She persisted, batting them away as if they were Brooks Brothers moths.
“Mr. Higgins, do you have any comment on your lawyer’s death?”
He swept past her, down the stairs, into the cavernous foyer, and out the door.
She followed him to the street. Higgins climbed into a waiting car and zoomed away. The car disappeared into traffic, followed by the minion swarm.
Ambush? Strikeout. None of Wylie’s clients wanted to speak to her. Only a few had even bothered to give her a no-comment. The rest had deflected her calls. Higgins had been her final shot.
Maybe it was time to go home. She turned and headed for the parking garage. She could already hear her credit card, shrieking in pain. And then her phone beeped.
It was a text message from Jo. She slowed. No—it was three messages. She opened the first, and stopped.
I found Wylie’s 2nd cell. He was carjacked. Drove to Sierras under DURESS.
Evan’s lips parted.
