Leo popped open a panel in his torso.
A half dozen sizzling bottle rockets came streaking out of his chest.
Dr. Zimm and his two henchmen dropped to the ground as the fireworks exploded overhead.
“I now extrapolate that we have a twenty-two second jump on our pursuers,” said Leo, running for the van parked at the curb.
Max ran after him.
“Who gave you a weapons system?” she shouted.
“Klaus,” said Leo, yanking open the driver’s-side door of the van. “But it is not a weapons system. It was intended as a surprise for the Fourth of July.”
“Drive!” yelled Max after she jumped into her seat and slammed the door shut. In the distance, she could hear sirens approaching. Somebody had called the police. Maybe Dr. McKenna. Maybe whoever lived in the house next door. Maybe they didn’t like the Corp hit men trying to kick down their door at dawn.
“Destination?” asked Leo as they raced up the street.
Max checked the rearview mirror. Dr. Zimm and his two associates were scrambling to their feet and climbing into their vehicle—a sleek black sedan with black tinted windows.
“West Virginia,” said Max. “Eventually. For now, initiate Isabl Driving Protocol.”
“Are you certain about that, Max?”
“Yes. Punch it!”
The hard drive inside Leo’s plastic head made grinding noises. He was accessing the defensive driving database that Klaus had loaded into his backup system just in case Leo ever needed to drive like Isabl (which was, basically, like a maniac speed demon).
“The Corp vehicle is three hundred yards behind us,” Leo reported as they whipped through a series of switchbacks and screeched into a tire-burning turn. “Local police have been summoned to 246 Battle Road and are now in pursuit of the Corp vehicle. Should I initiate more evasive actions?”
“No. We need to help the cops. Slow Dr. Zimm down so they can pull a PIT maneuver.”
“Sorry,” said Leo. “I have not been provided with information about PIT maneuvers. I could tell you about Pitt University. Or peach pits…”
“PIT stands for pursuit intervention technique,” said Max, climbing over her seat and into the back of the van. “They’ll use basic physics to stop Dr. Zimm’s car. They’ll tap his rear wheels at an acute angle with their front wheels. That’ll cause the Corp vehicle to skid sideways. We’re going to use basic chemistry to help them out.”
“Fascinating,” said Leo.
“Did you and Isabl grab that diesel fuel when we stopped at the rest area?”
“Yes. Charl suggested we might need it for field generators. The five-gallon canister is stored in the area behind the rear bench.”
“Perfect,” said Max. “That means it’s close to the tailpipe, too!”
Max climbed over the rows of seats and made it to the back of the van. She could see the Corp sedan gaining on them. She could also see swirling roofbars in the distance. The police were in pursuit.
Max screwed the nozzle onto the diesel fuel can. She popped open the rear vented window and shoved the nozzle through the gap in the corner closest to the van’s exhaust pipe. Leo’s rapid acceleration and maniac moves had caused every part of the car’s internal combustion system to heat up quickly—including the tailpipe.
“Reduce your speed, Leo!”
“Reducing speed, Max.”
The van slowed.
Max tilted the gas can and started pouring diesel fuel. It sloshed and splashed all over the place, including on the hot tailpipe. In a flash, a cloud of white smoke billowed up behind the van, creating a thick smokescreen that forced Dr. Zimm’s car to slow down.
The police knocked the Corp sedan into a spinout. It twirled like a top until it came to a stop.
Max and Leo flew out of Princeton and headed for the highway, driving one mile per hour underneath the maximum posted speed limit for every stretch of road they traveled.
Because they didn’t want any other police vehicles using a PIT on them.