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“I’m around the corner. Should I come out front?”
“I think so.” He took a deep breath. “Could be nothing. Could be something. Better be safe. We’ll go to another place.”
“Roger that.” I hung up.
“What’s going on?” Robin’s voice was laced with concern.
“Hedeon’s coming out. We’re going somewhere else.”
“Because of some black vans?”
I nodded and pulled back onto the street. I came to the stop sign, turned right onto Nineteenth, rolled to Mt. Vernon.
The black van was still there.
“This is how it works,” I said. “Total paranoia. Got to assume everyone’s out to get us, because some day they might be. We’ve survived a long time like this.”
She chewed her lip, but said nothing.
I turned onto the street again. As I rolled past, the guy with dark hair stared out the window at me. For one brief moment, we made eye contact.
Then the doors open and three guys with long rifles jumped out.
“Fuck. Get down.”
Robin’s eyes went wide. I leaned toward her, unbuckled her seatbelt, and shoved her down onto the floor. She let out a yelp as her body folded into the space in front of the seat. I hit the gas, jerked forward. Gunshots rang out, most of them missing. I slammed on the brakes as the second van opened up and three more guys jumped out.
Hedeon was at the door. I leaned over Robin and shoved open her door. She screamed as bullets smashed into the car.
Hedeon made a run for it. Bullets whipped through the air. One slammed into his arm, snapped it backwards with a spray of blood. He slowed, but didn’t stop. I pulled my gun from my waistband and fired a few shots out my window, trying to draw their fire from Hedeon.
He reached the door and threw himself inside. Blood oozed from his arm but he slammed the door.
“Go!” he yelled.
Something flew through the air and slammed against Hedeon’s building. Fire fell down the front of it, setting the door and the window frame ablaze. It took me half a second to realize they were throwing Molotov cocktails.
I hit the gas and leapt forward. Gunfire filled the air as another cocktail missed the car and hit the sidewalk. It was lucky for us, because the gasoline inside exploded outward and forced the guys in the second van to stagger away from it.
Another Molotov hit Hedeon’s house. The fire engulfed the front as I drove fast past the second van. They shot out a wheel and I had to hold on tight as the car nearly lost tracking, but I rode the rim to the next street and turned right. I hit the gas and accelerated forward, sparks flying up.
The gunfire ceased, but I couldn’t slow down. They’d chase soon.
“You alive?” I said.
“I’m alive.” Hedeon’s face was white. Robin was still crammed on the floor. He crawled into the back seat and lay sprawled out along it.
“Robin?”
“I’m okay.” She climbed up from the floor. “I’m okay. Nothing hit.”
“What’s injured, Hedeon?”
“Arm.” He clenched his jaw, hand pressing hard against the wound. “Bullet went through.”
“That’s good. Clean shot.”
“I need a doctor.”
“Can’t do a hospital.”
“Who the fuck cares? We’ll pay for it. Got to get to a safe spot, first.”
“Where?”
He grunted and looked out the back window.
The black van was coming.
“Fuck,” he said.
I turned left, nearly lost control. The blown-out tire wouldn’t last much longer. The rim was going to bend and break soon. I didn’t have much time.
My mind raced. I had to find a safe spot to stop, somewhere the Volkovs wouldn’t follow us, and it had to be close. Otherwise they’d catch up and finish us off.
“Where’s Oleg been staying?” I asked.
“You know I can’t—”
“Hedeon, goddamn it, tell me where Oleg’s staying.”
“Nearby. Brown Street, behind the penitentiary.”
I grabbed my phone and threw it back at Hedeon as I slammed onto Fairmount. The car fishtailed, nearly smashed into a truck. Robin screamed and snapped her seatbelt on. Sparks flew up from the rim as it scraped along the road.
“Call him!” I yelled.
“I can’t just—”
“Call him and tell him to be outside in two minutes with the biggest fucking gun he owns.”
Hedeon let out a snarl, but dialed.
I crossed over Fairmount and slammed a right onto Twenty-Second Street. Eastern State Penitentiary loomed up to our right, an enormous stone behemoth of gray slate. Guard towards stood at either corner, staring down like ancient sentinels. Cars swerved out of the way as I barreled forward, barely under control, sparks flying wildly. I saw pedestrians stare, some of them probably tourists.
The van was gaining as I reached Brown Street.
“Oleg,” Hedeon said. “Get your ass outside in one minute. Big gun. Yeah, biggest gun you got. One minute, Oleg. You’ll fucking see us.”
I whipped the wheel around and the tires screamed in protest. I lost control, slammed against the compact car on the right, nearly hit some girl on her bike on the left. The car bounced forward, puttering, smoking, steaming. The Penn’s wall loomed on our right. Beautiful, modern brick buildings jutted up on the left. The car died and rolled forward, then came to a stop resting up against a red work truck with a portable generator behind it.
