The pulsating high-pitched tone was hard on the ears. Fenn blew out the match, jumped from the chair, and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the bracket by the door. He went into the hallway and saw the receptionist on the phone, clearly calling 9-1-1.
Two suits emerged from an office. They turned his way but Fenn pointed toward the morgue and they took the hint. He went the other way and took the stairs two at a time. At the top he displayed the extinguisher and strode businesslike toward the sentry. The man was standing in the middle of the hall, uncertain as to what he should do.
“Chemical fire in the morgue.” Fenn told him. “Time to abandon ship.”
The sentry looked to the door he was guarding and then at Fenn. He put his hand on the knob and gave Fenn a dismissive head toss.
“You can go down. I’ll be right there.”
Fenn nodded and returned to the stairwell. Satisfied, the sentry opened the door and entered the room but he stopped just past the door jamb. The room was set up as guest quarters with an on-suite bathroom. It had a large walnut bureau, a queen-sized bed stripped of its covers, and a blonde climbing over the windowsill with a rope made of sheets.
“Hey!” He took a step toward her then pitched forward onto the rug, out cold. Fenn watched him collapse then lowered the fire extinguisher.
“Chas?”
“Kim!”
“Oh shit!” Kim lost her balance and disappeared from the sill. Fenn scrambled across the bed and stuck his head through the open portal. White-knuckled, and swaying slightly on her makeshift line, Kim stared back with a novice climber’s look of fear.
“You’re doing fine. Keep going,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Habit made him check her tie-off. The top sheet was fastened securely to the foot of the bureau. A pair of scissors lay on the floor. He followed the line to the window and looked down again. Kim was standing by the wall, the end of the fabric dangling just above her head.
He took a couple of deep breaths to steel himself for the climb down. His damaged rib and torn left shoulder would not support much weight. He’d made one-armed descents before but they were tricky and he didn’t have time for the niceties of pain management. Thirty seconds later he let go of the sheet and dropped next to Kim beneath the stained glass window of the chapel.
The alarm continued to wail, just as loud outside as in the building. Over top of it came the insistent sound of a car horn. Tony had heard the commotion and from his vantage point had watched Kim and Fenn exit through the window.
The GTO raced up the driveway, its back end sliding out as Tony accelerated toward them. The limo had been moved to the front of the building and blocked the side where Kim and Fenn now stood. Tony skidded to a stop and jumped out, leaving the door open and engine running.
It had been almost three minutes since Fenn had triggered the alarm and his ruse had been discovered. A shout came from the window above them. The shouter, thinking he might also rappel down, put a leg over the sill. Fenn yanked hard on the sheet. It rapped the man’s knuckles against the wood and changed his mind.
The car wash guy had joined Jenner and the dogs on their walk to the perimeter of the property. Fenn saw them running back toward the building with the Shepherds in the lead. He began to strip off his coveralls.
“Time to split up, Kim. You run for the car. I’ll try and distract them.”
She didn’t need telling twice. With only socks on her feet she bolted for the GTO. Jenner and his buddy altered course to intercept her and released the dogs. They bounded ahead. Fenn, waving hardhat and coveralls, whooped like a rodeo clown to get their attention. The dogs veered toward him and he took off toward the broken rocks at the base of Mount Nemo.
The limo was in Kim’s way and she slowed to dodge around it. The detour gave the car washer time to meet her on the other side and he grabbed the sleeve of her raincoat. He disappeared with a grunt as Tony’s shoulder ploughed into his midsection. The two men landed hard on the asphalt. Tony recovered first and delivered two snap punches to his opponent’s face.
“Drive the car, Kim. Go!”
Jenner had a choice of chasing the girl or ganging up on her champion. His momentary hesitation gave Kim time to reach the GTO and close the door. She saw him snatch at the handle then stagger backwards as Tony grabbed his collar and spun him away. Not waiting to see the outcome, Kim slammed the gear selector into Drive and stomped on the gas.
== == ==
Fenn was seconds from reaching the rock wall when the dogs caught up. He let them get within five metres then dropped to his knees and held the coveralls up like a screen. Competing for the prey, the vicious dogs lunged side by side at the presented target. Bowled over by a hundred kilograms of snapping fury, Fenn was battered by wolf-like legs and scratching nails. Their frothing mouths and hot putrid breath passed over his face as they snatched at the bait and took it with them.
Incensed by the smell of rendered meat, the dogs fought over the blue fabric and ripped it to shreds with violent headshakes. Fenn got to his feet and dashed toward the base of the cliff. His flight, noticed first by one and then by both, restarted the chase.
With no time to test the integrity of ledges he scrambled up the wall, sending shale and limestone raining down on the riled up beasts. He gasped in agony as a foothold gave way and threw weight onto the torn ligaments and muscles of his left shoulder. The fingers held. He found a new footrest. Below, the dogs danced on their hind legs and barked in frustration. His heels were beyond their reach and Fenn forced himself to slow down and select his supports with more care.
Keep your weight over your feet, he told himself, and three points of contact on the rock. He heard a car door slam and a squeal of tires. His hand found a tree root and he looked up.
Almost there.
== == ==
The car seemed huge but the gearshift, gas pedal, and steering wheel were all pretty standard. The GTO’s spinning tires turned rubber into smoke as the car lunged forward. Kim wasn’t used to this much power. Ahead, suits ran from the main entrance and fanned out before her. Another movement caught her eye. In the mirror she saw Tony running after the car. She hit the brakes and he caught up and jumped in on the passenger side.
It was then that she noticed her seat was the only one the car had. Tony flopped onto the foam slab in the rear and lay panting. Kim tromped the gas and spun the tires again. The suits scattered and the sudden launch rolled Tony off the foam. He grabbed the back of her seat and pulled himself up as she steered toward the exit.
“Go left when you hit the road,” he said.
She did, then overcorrected and swayed back and forth a couple of times. The oncoming lane was empty so she stayed on the centerline until she got a feel for the full-sized muscle car. Flashing lights appeared briefly in the mirror. They turned in at the funeral home at the same time the black limousine lurched into view behind them. Tony reached around her and fastened the lap belt.
“They’re coming after us,” she said, and thinking only of escape, mashed the gas pedal to the floor. The car surged and Tony tumbled to the rear once more.
“Sorry.”
He got back to his knees and finished snugging up her seatbelt.
“Mariah should be able to outrun them,” he replied. “Just do what I tell you to do.”
== == ==
From the cliff top, Fenn had a panoramic view of the action. The flat black Pontiac was making haste up the road and the funeral home employees were running for their vehicles. Jenner and the car wash dude got into the limo and headed for the exit. They left via the driveway’s north end as two police vehicles, lights flashing and sirens blaring, came in on the south side.
The cruisers blocked the exits and within minutes the officers managed to corral those that hadn’t already made it to the road. The dogs had given up on Fenn and gone back to chewing on the torn coveralls. An officer got one of the employees to call them over. Uzi and Magnum. How cute.
Two more police cars, unmarked with blue strobe lights on the dash, brought additional law enforcement. These guys looked more like detectives. Considering the time frame, Fenn noted the police were well represented for a fire alarm call. Only now could a fire truck be heard coming up Walker’s Line.
With Tony and Kim well on their way, there was no reason for Fenn to stick around. If the opportunity presented itself Tony would circle back to try and find him. If not, then he knew Tony would head for the barn. He turned his back on the lookout and started to thread his way through the trees on the plateau. Not far off there was a trail that exited onto Guelph Line. From there he would try to hitch a ride to Kilbride.
== == ==
Kim held the wheel in a tight grip and kept her foot down. The police presence at the funeral home would guarantee her safety but to make a turn on this narrow road, and then get past the limousine, seemed riskier than to race away and hope to shake the pursuit. Tony was kneeling at her shoulder.
“Just ahead, the road curves left and then back to the right. After that it runs straight for a ways. Take it easy on the bend and then we’re gonna light it up and leave these guys in our dust.”
Light it up? What did that mean?
They passed a yellow warning sign with a black squiggly line and she backed off the gas. The speedometer needle dropped back to 80. This was a sixties car with sixties gauges. 80 meant 80 mph. After doing 100 mph, which translated to 160 kmh, the lower speed seemed slower than it actually was.
“Back off a bit more, Kim.”
The curve came on quickly and the car felt heavy on the wheel. She fought to follow the turn then threw the wheel the other way as the road went to the right. Tony spread his knees and struggled to stay upright. They came out of the curve partly in the opposing lane. An oncoming vehicle swerved to the shoulder in avoidance. It was another police car.
The cruiser shot past and into the curve. Tony turned to look through the rear window. Kim applied the gas and the road ran from under the trunk at ever increasing speed. After only a few seconds, however, the limo emerged from the bend on a perfect line. The driver had some skill. Tony turned his attention forward. It was time to play their trump card.
Kim sat ramrod straight, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. The seat was too far back for comfort and she had to point her toe to keep the pedal to the floor. It was cramping her calf. Tony reached alongside her and flicked a toggle switch on the dash. There was a red button next to it.
“Okay, Kim. It’s time to lose these creeps.” He checked behind once more. The limo hadn’t gained any ground but hadn’t fallen back much, either.
“You are about to get a speed boost. It’s important to hold the wheel steady and keep your foot down. When I tell you to, push that button with your thumb and hold it there. Are you ready?”
Kim put her thumb on the button and nodded.
“Right. Hit it!”
At a 100 mph, the additional burst of power from the injection of nitrous oxide into the cylinders wasn’t enough to throw them back, but the car did respond as if it had fresh legs.
110 / 120 / 130 mph.
The limo receded rapidly in the mirror.
135 mph.
Now it was just a small black object with little detail.
140 mph.
“Okay, Kim. You can let go.”
She removed her thumb. Utility poles, sixty metres apart, were flashing past in rapid succession. The GTO actually handled well at this speed. Which was still increasing.
145 mph
“Let off the button, Kim!”
“I did!”
Tony crawled forward and stabbed at the button. The engine continued to race. Ahead in their lane, another car was rapidly growing larger. He flicked the toggle switch. No change. The speedometer needle had reached its limit of 150 mph.
“We’ve got to slow down or the motor will blow. Use your brakes but GENTLY!”
Kim put both feet on the brake pedal and applied as much pressure as she dared. The car began to lose speed but the big motor growled louder as if protesting the restraint.
130 \ 120 \ 110
Within the engine, the pistons pounded away with rising pressure. They began to clatter as the oil flow faltered. Channels that delivered the lubricant hadn’t been flushed in a generation and were not up to the extreme demand. A piston rubbed against a cylinder wall. Then another. The friction caused a vibration that began to shake the motor. A heartbeat later it set off a catastrophic reaction that sounded like lightning trapped in an oil drum.
A valve jammed, then the camshaft broke, stopping the engine cycle. The transmission, overridden by the forward motion of the car, transferred all of that energy back into the motor. Out of synch and thrust against each other, parts bent and broke and welded themselves in place. Everything locked up yet the car’s momentum forced the wheels to turn. The right rear axle became the last weak link in the chain. It twisted and snapped, and the back wheel came out of the wheelwell.
No longer drivable, The Black Mariah swerved to the right and headed for the ditch.