When Mickey entered the lab, he expected trouble. He saw Trinley kicking Christina, instantly tucked into his best linebacker pose, and tackled him. Trinley went down and Mickey kneeled on his chest, punching him in the face as hard as he could. But the scientist was no slouch and got his arms around Mickey. They flopped against the hard laboratory cabinets and struggled while River and Christina disappeared.
Blood dripped from Trinley’s nose. Mickey took a blow to the gut and doubled over. Trinley aimed a foot at Mickey’s knee but Mickey barreled into him and knocked him down again.
The gun tumbled out of the scrum and skidded across the smooth laboratory tile.
Both men saw it go. Mickey dove for the weapon a fraction of a second before Trinley and got his hands on the grip first.
“You bastard,” Mickey said as he tottered to his feet and backed away, breathing hard.
Trinley used his hands to push himself off the floor. He touched his face and glanced curiously at the blood on his fingers.
For a moment they both stood there, panting. Mickey hadn’t been in a fight since junior high. In that quarrel, nothing was truly at stake; certainly neither combatant had a gun. But he remembered how terribly sore he was the day after. Considering how much his neck and ribs hurt already, tomorrow was going to be rough.
Trinley stared at the gun. A wicked smile curled his lips.
“Thanks for the alibi.”
Mickey kept the weapon pointed at him. “Give me the keys.”
Trinley dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out the key to the golf cart.
“Take it. I can add stolen vehicle to the list of charges.”
“I didn’t commit any crimes in this lab. But you did. You killed Christina’s boss.”
“The police don’t think so. And my friend the mayor would never listen to such an accusation. But you’ve made it easy for me to prove that you were in this lab when the city’s best hope for a cure was maliciously destroyed.”
“You trashed Christina’s stuff?”
“No, you did. Just like you conspired with Miss Gonzalez to start the petroplague in the first place, and helped her arrange the death of Dr. Robert Chen.”
“I don’t have time for this shit. Toss the key,” Mickey said.
Trinley did. “I’ll have your face on the F.B.I.’s Most Wanted list by the end of the day.”
“Go for it. Enjoy the earthquakes you didn’t try to stop,” Mickey said and walked away.
As soon as he was out in the hall, Mickey dropped the cool façade and took off at a run. He sprang down the stairs to the ground level, grabbed his backpack, smashed the key into the golf cart’s ignition, and slammed the accelerator to the floor.
His getaway was comically low-speed, but the cart moved faster than either he or Trinley could run over a distance. That’s all that mattered.
He glanced back to make sure the X-car was gone. Knowing that the girls were safe made it easier to face his next task. Neil was waiting.