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From somewhere in the distance, Holly heard the siren of a police car. “That’s my people,
” she said.
Then the firing started. Someone in the group from the airplane began automatic fire, but he didn’t know exactly where to shoot, so the shots went wide.
Holly hit the runway on her belly, her gun out in front of her, and took aim at the man with the assault weapon. She squeezed off two shots and heard somebody yell in pain.
“You’re shooting well tonight,” Grant said. “Let’s just stay right here until the cavalry arrives.”
But Holly was already up and running. “Come on, Daisy, stay with me.” She was looking for Ed Shine, and she wanted him badly. She could smell jet fuel now. A tank had ruptured.
Somebody fired a shotgun in her direction, only a yard wide. Holly stopped running and aimed at the runway under the airplane’s wing. She fired two more rounds, sparks flew, and the fuel caught fire. The airplane had been spilling fuel as it slid, and the blaze raced up the runway toward Holly; she sidestepped it and kept running, Daisy alongside her.
Then the flames under the airplane spread upward and both wings exploded, a fraction of a second apart. A man with a shotgun threw it aside and ran in circles, covered in flames. Other figures could be seen running away from the airplane, one with snowy white hair.
“Daisy,” Holly said, pointing at him. “Get Ed! Get Ed! Guard!” Daisy took off after him, while Holly skirted the burning airplane, looking for other people with weapons.
Two cars, a white Range Rover and an Orchid Beach PD patrol car sped down the runway toward the airplane, lights flashing and sirens on. Both cars screeched to a halt beside Holly. “Holly?” Hurd’s voice said from the Range Rover.
“Right,” Holly replied. “Half a dozen people left that airplane before it caught fire, and they’ve scattered out there somewhere,” she said, swinging her arm across the area beside the runway. “Hurd, you stick with me. You go round up those people and cuff them,” Holly yelled at the other car. “Some of them may be armed, so be careful.” The car sped off. “You follow me, Hurd. Stay behind me, I need your headlights.”
Then Holly heard a man yelling from out in the darkness. “Get off me, get off me!”
“Ed, is that you?” Holly asked, running toward the voice, the Range Rover following.
“Get the dog off me!” he yelled back.
Holly saw him now, lying on his back, with Daisy standing beside him in the guard position, fangs bared, growling. “Daisy, sit; stay,” she said.
Ed Shine sat up, then struggled to his feet.
“You! How did . . .”
“Vault doors have safety releases on the inside, Ed,” she said. “Sorry about your airplane.”
“Why don’t you just shoot me?” Shine said disconsolately.
“No, Ed,” Holly said. “I couldn’t stand it; that would be too much fun.” Hurd cuffed him and put him into the back of the car.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, Holly,” Hurd said, “but it looks like I’m out of a job.”
“Hurd,” Holly said, “as far as I’m concerned, you never left the department; the job is still yours.”
Then a black van with a flashing red light on top drove up, and Harry Crisp got out, wearing full FBI battle regalia—body armor, helmet, the works. “Okay, Holly, I’ll take it from here,” he said.
“The hell you will, Harry,” Holly said. “This is my collar. You can have whatever stragglers you can pick up.”
“This is a federal matter, Holly,” Harry said.
“Tell it to a judge,” Holly replied. “You’re on my turf, Harry.”
Grant walked up. “Harry, where the hell have you been? Didn’t you get my call?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know exactly what it meant,” Harry replied.
“You didn’t know what NOW, do it NOW! meant?”
“I think you fellows need to have a little chat,” Holly said, getting into the Range Rover. “Have a nice evening.” She drove away.
