Double Cross

again, and I thought that I saw her—at the far end of the lobby. I moved the kid and a few others out of my way. “Let me through here!”
    “Bree!” I was running now. “I can see her. She’s tall. White. Carrying the blue backpack.”
    “And
female
?”
    “I think so. Could be a disguise.”
    When I reached the next corner, the suspect was already more than halfway down a long corridor, running toward the exit at the far end.
    “Police! Stop!
Stop right there
!” I shouted at her, and I had my gun out too.
    Whoever she was, she didn’t even look around as she slammed through the door. It swung back hard, then burst into an opaque web of broken glass.
    “East parking lot!” I told Bree and Sampson. “She’s outside! She’s running! It’s a woman!”

Chapter 68

    A STRONG WOMAN TOO! She’d completely shattered the door on the way out.
What kind of woman was that? A very angry one? A crazy lady? A collaborator with DCAK or another copycat
?
    Pellets of glass showered around me as I pushed through the exit door.
Where the hell was she now
? I didn’t see her anywhere outside. No one running.
    A few streetlamps overhead left plenty of shadow around the narrow parking lot. The row of cars directly opposite me showed no sign of life, though.
    On my left, the pavement ended abruptly and gave way to an empty stretch of lawn.
    Then I heard a sports-car engine fire up. The revving noise came from somewhere off to my right. I stared hard into the semidarkness.
    Headlights blinked on, then two shining eyes came right at me.
Fast
!
    My Glock was still out, and I figured I had time for at least one shot. I squeezed the trigger. A bullet punctured the car’s windshield with a
pock
sound. The speeding vehicle kept coming. Right at me! I dove and hit the hotel wall, then rolled onto the asphalt. Banged the hell out of my shoulder and my chin.
    I fired another shot. A taillight shattered. It was a small coupe, I saw now. A blue Miata. A neighbor of mine had one, and I recognized the size and shape.
    The fast-moving car hopped the curb, then bounced forward into the street.
    Then it stopped abruptly! A taxi’s tires squealed on the pavement. The cab had just missed nailing the coupe.
Inches from total destruction. And capture
!
    By the time I was on my feet and running, the blue sports car had taken off again.
    My badge was out, and I threw open the taxi driver’s door. “Police! I need your cab.”
    All the cabbie saw was my gun, but I guess it was enough for him. He was out of his seat immediately, hands held in the air. “Take it!”
    The taxi was a V-6. Good, I’d probably need all of that. I clicked off the radio and AC to funnel extra power.
    “Alex? Where the hell are you?” Bree’s voice sounded in my ear, faint against the straining engine of the cab.
    “In pursuit, I hope. West on O’Donnell,” I called out. “I’m chasing a dark-blue Miata. Maryland plates. One taillight out. I’m looking at it right now. Female driver—though she’s big enough to be a man. Strong enough too.”
    “Maybe it’s a man in women’s clothes. He likes to play roles.”
    “Yes, he does. But I think this really is a woman. We have to get her!”
    The coupe shot past the ramp for I-95 and straight through another intersection. The driver was doing at least seventy—and accelerating.
    “Bree, if you can hear me, we’re both going west on O’Donnell. You copy?”
    “Okay, Alex. Still got you. We’re on it, on our way. What else do you need?”
    “Shit!”
I yelled.
“Shit!”
    “What?” Bree yelled back.
    I swerved to miss a yellow VW Bug as it tried to squeak in a left turn.
Idiot
. “What I need is a siren. Or some backup,” I clarified for Bree.
    “Medallion 5C742, what’s your location?” The taxi dispatch suddenly crackled at me. Another country heard from. “Come in. Do you hear me?”
    “Alex, what’s happening now?” Bree asked. “Are you all right?
Alex
?”
    The coupe barely slowed as it pulled around a UPS truck and straight
into
oncoming traffic. Cars swerved to the side as the coupe barreled at them. I gunned the cab and squeezed in behind.
    “Maryland 451JZW,” I told Bree. “I’m fine. So far, anyway. Still in pursuit.”
    I kept my foot down—and managed to nudge the Miata’s rear bumper. The sports car jerked but then surged forward again.
    “Bree? Did you get that license number? Bree? Bree, where are you?”
    There was no response from her. Maybe I’d gone out of