Page 40 of The Vigilante's Lover

I crouch low in The Cure’s Infiniti. Blasted civilian windows and their transparency.

If the Vigilantes follow standard procedure, they’ll either attempt a knockout shot through a window, or simply throw a stun grenade.

A full firefight is usually out of the question in normal city streets, but with the kill order, they might be willing to clean up a mess.

Regardless, staying here is not an option.

The car blocking the front of me is perfectly positioned between brick buildings. I can’t get around it.

I flick on the car’s rear camera. I have better luck there, since the second car stopped close to the corner.

The sedan behind me is positioned as well as it can be in the space between a stop sign and a building. But there is a gap behind it just large enough for me to fit through. If I try to shoot for the rear gap, they can close it off easily. But then that leaves the pole side open.

Using the backup camera to navigate in the dark, I throw the car in reverse and floor it, angling toward the gap behind the Vigilante car.

As I suspected, the other car reverses to close off the gap.

I shove the gear back into drive and send the Infiniti lurching to the opposite side.

It jumps the curb and plows into the stop sign.

“Sorry, Cure,” I mutter, wincing at the damage to the car.

The Vigilante realizes his mistake and tries to block off my new avenue. I brace myself and feel the car shudder as it takes a hit in the side. But I floor it and break away, taking out some bricks on the corner of the building. Now both Vigilantes are behind me.

I can hear a fender scraping a tire. I’ll need to ditch this Infiniti. It’s not cut out for this level of abuse.

I could really use one of the Vigilante vehicles. I have to lure one of them out.

I bark a command at the car and the navigation shifts to an overhead map.

I cancel the route before the car starts giving me new directions and study the street layout as best I can.

The longer I drive, the more chances they get to cut me off, and they won’t fall for the same trick again.

Not to mention attracting the attention of law enforcement as we roar through the streets.

Pulling over to ditch the car won’t work. They can track me via thermal imagery once I’m out of the vehicle. There’s not exactly any rivers to duck into here. I need something else.

In the rearview mirror I see a car careen around a corner and swing in behind me. The damaged fender tells me it’s the Vigilante that failed to cut off my escape. The Infiniti has plenty of horsepower but I hold no illusions as to how it would fare against a Vigilante sedan.

I yank the wheel hard and slide around a corner.

My pursuer overshoots and swings wide, buying me a few precious seconds over him.

I zigzag between streets, mindful of the silent countdown before the local police show up.

At least at this hour the streets are mostly empty.

The last thing I need is to get yet another civilian involved in my mess.

Up ahead of me a car turns onto the street. Damn it, the second Vigilante is ahead and barreling straight for me. Who is driving that car? They’re rivaling Colette in ability. Has to be another Phase Six.

I make a last-second hard right and barely avoid sideswiping a garbage truck rumbling the opposite way. This won’t work much longer.

A cloud of white smoke billows out from behind an industrial complex up ahead, and the germ of an idea forms. I pull another hard right and spot what I’m looking for. Three large condensers line up against a building, each belching out clouds of steam. The facility is lit up like a football field.

I can’t let them follow my heat signature even for a second. I roll down the window as the condensers approach. The third is the lowest but it’s still a hell of a jump.

I run the Infiniti as close to the wall as I can. I turn on the navigator and set the auto-drive to go straight ahead and come to a halt in 1000 feet. I roll down the window. I’ve only got one shot at this. If I miss, they’ll pick me up.

We approach the steam of the condensers. Here we go.

I climb up through the window, pass the first condenser, then the second, so close that my shoulder rubs the wall. When we get to the third, I launch from the car and into the steam, not really certain what will be there when I land.

I crash onto the metal roof and stop just short of the grate.

The surface is flat and hot. I jump to my knees, move to the edge, and peer through the steam.

The heat prickles my skin and the moisture dampens my hair, but I should have some cover, both visual and thermal.

I watch as the first Vigilante car, the one with the damaged fender, follows the Infiniti as it rolls to a stop.

The second car passes, but doesn’t follow the first. That Vigilante knows I’m not in there. He’ll keep looking.

From the first car emerges a figure clad in a familiar outfit. I stifle a laugh.

It’s the cocky guard from the silo I visited with Mia. Running Man, in his close-fitting running clothes.

Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.

He moves to the Infiniti, a weapon in his hand.

On his head he has some sort of monocle, probably a night-vision lens.

Cautiously he sweeps the car before yanking the door open, weapon ready.

When I don’t jump out at him, he looks around.

His gaze moves up to the top of the condensers, but through the mist I can’t tell if he’s spotted me.

He heads my way. His pace is unhurried, and his gaze is everywhere. He’s still looking.

He moves around to the back of the condenser next to mine.

I strain for the sound of feet on the metal ladder above the constant hiss of the condensers, but hear nothing.

Carefully I shift position and spot him, still circling the condenser down below.

He’s between them now, staring at the soft earth instead of looking up.

An apparent and futile attempt at looking for tracks, I wager.

I don’t hesitate. With a quick roll I’m off the roof and hurtling for his head.

I slam into him with both feet, knocking us both to the ground.

I roll as I land and am back on my feet before he’s even looking around.

I aim a sharp kick at his jaw and send him sprawling back, then leap on him and wrap him in a choke hold.

His hands finally find some purchase and he digs fingers like iron bars into my bicep. I feel part of my arm go numb and my hold loosens. He twists in my grip, his hand scrabbling for a better angle.

I drop the hold and lash out with my other arm, cracking his head to the side. Then I dig my own fingers into his flesh, hunting for a bundle of nerves. He fights for a second, then goes limp.

I waste no time. That move can drop a normal person for several minutes, but a Vigilante’s training greatly reduces its effectiveness. I snag his control watch and key fob, then run back to his car. The door opens at my approach and I dive in.

I resist the urge to floor it in case the other Vigilante car is nearby, and instead make a quick yet graceful U-turn on the street. With a second turn the condensers are out of sight, their great steam clouds still billowing above the neighboring buildings.

“Computer,” I bark, “cloaking levels one, two, and three.”

“Cloaking levels initiated.”

I relax a little into the seat. I have no idea what kind of authorizations Running Man has, but I suspect they’re not very high. This will hide me from his partner, but the Vigilantes themselves will be able to track this car before long.

I drive over a gully and slow down long enough to roll down the window and toss Running Man’s gear out. The car scolds me for compromising the cloaking, but quiets down once the window is closed. That will buy me a little more time. Hopefully enough for this next step.

“Computer, deactivate cloaking level two. Send secure transmission to Operative 03773.” Hopefully Sam can handle a message from me without complications.

Sam comes on the screen full of seriousness. “What fuckup have you done this time, Paulson?” Then he sees me and cracks a smile. “You son of a gun. Did you take out Paulson?”

“Is that his name?” I say. “He needs to be relegated to kitchen duty.”

“One of Carter’s boys in Missouri,” Sam says. “I’m guessing he fouled up your apprehension.”

“In a big way. Not sure what happened to the other. Slick driver.”

“You know her well,” Sam says.

“Seriously?” I should have recognized Colette’s driving. “She going to end up on the rack because of me?”

“Nah. She’s playing by the book. She’s good.” He glances down and frowns. “Let me wipe this car before they figure out it’s you.”

The dash goes dark and everything electronic in the car goes out. The engine continues its quiet hum. I’ve left the streets of downtown Albuquerque and am heading toward the desert.

The system reboots and Sam comes back on. “I’ll be in touch as I can. I have to cover these tracks.” He kills the transmission.

Time for me to head back to Tennessee and see if Jovana is stupid enough to attend that fight.

And tell The Cure about the unfortunate state of his Infiniti.