Tail Spin

in case. If she already came out, go after her. Like I said, all Goth—long black hair, black clothes, black boots, real young, maybe early twenties. Be careful. I mean it, she’s dangerous.”
    He listened for a moment. “Excellent, yeah, that’s her. Came right out the front door, did she? Pretty confident, our girl. Bring her down. Her real name is Pearl Compton. Maybe.”
    Savich heard running footsteps, heard Dane shout, “Stop, Pearl! FBI, stop right there!”
    There was a shot fired and Savich thought he’d swallow his tongue. He gripped his cell. “What happened? What’s going on?”
    Three more gunshots. People shouting, screaming.
    Savich and Sherlock dashed out of the shop to see Ollie and Dane running a block away, ducking into a Barnes & Noble.
    “Not good,” Savich said.
    They ran down the block and slowed only when they stepped into Barnes & Noble. They both knew the bookstore well, all three floors, the first floor a big open space, the clerks behind a counter extending along the left side, the books to the right. At that moment, the place was fast becoming a madhouse, clerks and customers shouting and yelling, some on the floor, a couple of bookshelves overturned, books tossed everywhere, and a man’s voice—Steve Olson, the manager—yelling for everyone to get down. Dane and Ollie and the two surveillance agents were weaving their way in and out of the aisles, following the screams and yells, looking for Perky.
    Savich saw her shoot at Dane from behind the travel aisle, then leap onto the down escalator from the second level and begin to run up, flat out, her black skirt flying, her boots thudding loudly on the treads, a gun in her right hand. He knew to his gut she was heading to the third floor, the children’s section, to find herself the perfect hostage. Of course she could grab anyone. He called, “Sherlock, get everyone over here. Steve, buzz up to the children’s area. Get the kids on the elevator, fast, or in the restrooms, just out of sight. Everyone, stay down!”
    He heard Steve yell again and again, “They’re FBI, everything will be okay. Don’t panic, stay down!”
    Perky turned as she jumped off at the top of the escalator and for one long moment, she stared at Savich. Then she grabbed a teenage girl by her long hair as she was crawling away and hauled her to her feet. “See what I got here, Mr. Agent?” She shook the girl like a rat. But while she spoke she looked over at Sherlock, who was approaching them, slowly, eyes on Perky, keeping real close to the books. “Say good-bye to the little cutie,” Perky yelled, and fired not at the girl she was holding but at Sherlock.
    Sherlock twisted against the bookshelf. A Linda Howard novel took the bullet. Three more shots, but Sherlock couldn’t fire back, none of them could, not with Perky holding the girl in front of her.
    Perky said, “Well now, this is what I’d call an impasse.”
    Savich called out, “Give it up, Pearl, it’s over.”
    She brought up her gun, fast as a snake, and fired at Savich. He threw himself to the side, not wanting to fire back and risk hitting the girl. But that pale, terrified teenager leaned down and bit Perky’s arm. Perky clouted her in the head with her fist, dropped her, whirled toward Savich, and fired again.
    “Get down!” he yelled.
    The teenager tried, but she fell onto the escalator and began rolling down toward him. She tried to flatten herself, but it was impossible. He yelled, “When you hit the bottom, run as fast as you can!”
    Savich heard people yelling, saw parents clutching their kids, a teenage boy holding up his pants as he tried to shield his little brother behind him. The teenager hit bottom, rolled once, and came up running.
    Perky stood at the top of the escalator and slowly raised her gun while she looked down. There were so many people—she had a fine selection.
    No choice, no choice. Savich rolled and came up, moving faster than the teenager. He had to take her down, and do it now. He brought up his SIG
    He heard Dane shout, “Perky! Hey, girl, don’t you love me anymore?”

TWENTY NINE
    Perky jerked around, her black hair lashing her face. She found Dane, crouched a dozen feet behind Savich, to his right. She raised her gun. There were two little boys suddenly close to Savich, shrieking— he didn’t know where they’d come from. One of them tripped over him and went sprawling. Savich rolled on top of the kid to protect him, twisted around to