 |
Print Chapter
..... |
|
| their panic to get clear of the
danger. The gangster turned away and vaulted into a waiting open roadster then sped down
Montgomery Street. "Quick, after him!" James Henry shouted. Without thinking, or perhaps remembering an earlier and more adventurous life, Joseph slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The Pierce-Arrow lunged forward, wheels shrieking, filling the void left in the gangster’s wake. Each car weaved on tilted tires in and out of traffic, often the pug veering right and the heroes forced to the left of a slower vehicle. The crook, seeing that he was followed, twisted around in his seat and fired two shots at the pursuers before his pistol clicked empty. One bullet lodged in the rear fender on Joseph’s side. The other shattered the bottom pane of the split windshield then slammed into the seat-back, an inch or two from where James Henry sat. It came |
to rest with a thud and an eruption of leather
and horse hair. "Damn a bear. But don’t stop! Keep after the villain," the young Bastion roared. Joseph had let up on the gas in the startled reality of being shot at. He took a quick glance at the younger man's nave determination, shrugged his shoulders and slammed back down on the gas pedal. "Your uncle will forgive you; a lunatic isn’t responsible. Me, he’ll hang because I should’ve known better." He had to pause in his tirade to make a tight tire shrieking turn onto Washington Street headed west. "And when he sees the damage to his new car, he’ll draw and quarter me after the hangin’." The chased, with the chasers on his tail, turned across traffic, generating a flurry of screeching brakes and bad language. Entering Powell |
| |
Print Chapter
..... |
|
