I watched the fuse sputter to life. I looked at the whole length of it and figured we had—at most—two minutes to come up with a way out of this. After that, the fuse would reach the rope Phil had looped around the steering column. On the other end of that rope was a lead brick.
When the rope burned through, the brick would drop right onto the accelerator, sending the car straight into fourth gear and right through the weakened guardrail!
Luckily, Joe hadn’t taped me too tightly. Still, duct tape is duct tape. It’s sticky, and really hard to work free of, unlike plain old rope, which tends to give way when you work it back and forth.
“I … can’t get … free of it!” Joe was muttering as he strained to work his own wrists free.
Iola was trying to say something, but the gag over her mouth made it come out as a groan of frustration. Her eyes were getting wider and wider, and I wished I could have helped her—but I couldn’t even help myself!
Eberhardt had been smarter than us, right from the very beginning. Joe and I had been a step behind him all along—by the time we were onto Oskar, he was dead. Meister? Same story.
Eberhardt had burned each bridge behind him as he crossed it, so that the crimes he committed through others would never be traced back to him. Iola, Joe, and I were the last links between him and the unfortunate events at the East Side Mall—and soon, we too would be dead.
We’d never figured out that there had to be someone on the inside—someone at the mall all day and evening, watching what went on and reporting back to the boss.
Phil.
I watched as he and Eberhardt opened the door to the stairway and disappeared. I kept on racking my brain for a way out of this mess, but nothing was coming to me.
Joe’s constant refrain of “Come on, Frank!” didn’t help either. And Iola’s pleading eyes made it even worse.
“It’s over, isn’t it, Frank?” Joe suddenly said. His voice was calm. Not a trace of fear—just facing the truth. After all our narrow escapes and brushes with death, this time we were really done for.
And then, just when we were about to give in to the inevitable, someone shouted, “Over there!” and two familiar figures came running across the roof toward us.
“Chet!” I yelled, recognizing his hulking frame.
But who was that with him? “Adriana?”
“Frank! Are you okay? What happened?”
“There’s no time to explain,” I said. “Got anything sharp?”
“Huh?”
“Something to cut with,” Joe shouted.
“Um … well, my barrette has a serrated edge …”
“Try it!” I said, holding my wrists out behind my back so she could start sawing away. “Chet—get the fuse!”
“Fuse?” He looked at me blankly.
“In the front, under the steering wheel! Don’t let it burn through that rope!”
“Rope?”
“Chet, there’s no time to waste!” In fact, the fuse had almost reached the rope already.
“Never mind, Chet—go around and grab the rear bumper, and hold on to it for all you’re worth!”
Thank goodness he understood that part. He ran around to the back of the car. “Got it!” Adriana’s barrette finally cut through the duct tape, and she started on Joe’s wrists.
“Hold on, and don’t let go, pal—if you do, we’re toast!” I called to Chet.
“There!” said Adriana as Joe’s hands came free.
“Get Iola out of the car, quick!” he told her as he pulled the tape off his ankles.
Adriana ran around the back of the car as Joe tried to climb over the seat to the front. But the fuse had already set the rope on fire!
Before Adriana could open the passenger door and let Iola out, the rope burned through, and the heavy brick dropped onto the accelerator.
The car lurched forward, hurling Joe back into the rear seat. Adriana screamed as our front bumper banged into the guardrail and split it in two.
“AAAARRRRRHHH!” Chet was letting out a mighty roar, but he wasn’t letting go of the back bumper.
Man, all that strength training sure was coming in handy!
“Joe, quick!” I yelled.
But he didn’t need prompting. As soon as he recovered from his tumble, he rolled over the seat into the front, yanked the brick off the accelerator, and tried to throw the gear shift into park.
Nothing happened.
“Aw, man, he jammed it!” Joe yelled. The brick might have been off the gas pedal, but the car was still in drive.
“Okay, just get me out of here!” I told him.
First he shoved Iola out the passenger door, which Adriana had opened. Then he came around back for me.
The car was creeping forward, an inch at a time. The front tires were almost at the edge of the roof! But every time it looked like they would go over, they inched back again as Chet exerted himself in the deadly game of tug-of-war.
“I … can’t … hold … on … much … longer!” he grunted.
Joe reached in and grabbed me, yanking me free and clear of the car, just as Chet’s amazing strength gave out.
The car lurched forward, tipped over, and disappeared. A second later we heard the crash, followed by a hellacious fireball that made it all the way to the roof.
We staggered back, Iola and Adriana screaming. I held Adriana, and Joe grabbed Iola, to shield them from the heat and smoke.
“OW!” I heard Chet say. “My hands are killing me!”
“You okay?” I asked.
“I’m gonna have blisters.”
“Dude, you saved us!” Joe said, clapping Chet on the back.
“Don’t thank me—thank her,” he replied, pointing to Adriana. “She dragged me up here, saying Iola was in trouble!”
“How did you know?” I asked her.
She sniffed back tears and managed a smile. “As I was coming in from the deck, I saw Phil and Iola coming up here, and I thought it was a little weird—like, why would he be bringing her up there? And she had this scared look on her face too.”
She wiped away some more tears and continued. “So I went to find someone from security, and when I got to the food court, I found out about the guy in the freezer! And there was Chet, getting questioned by the police. So as soon as they were done with him, I asked him where you guys were, and he said you’d gone to the parking deck, trying to catch the murderer. So I just grabbed Chet and we ran up here as fast as we could!”
“Well, we’re sure glad you did,” said Joe, looking gratefully at Adriana and Chet. Then he said to Chet, “Dude, you’ve got to hook me up with that personal trainer of yours—that was an awesome display!”
Chet grinned proudly, patted his stomach, and said, “Two hundred pounds of solid muscle, yo.”
“Hey, Joe,” I said. “I think it’s time we went after those two dirtbags, before they get away.”
“You think we still have a chance to catch them?” he asked.
“They said they were going to stay and watch,” I reminded him. “I guess they wanted to make sure the car came down as planned. Well, it did—which means they think they’re safe now. So they won’t be in any hurry.”
“All righty, then,” said Joe. “Let’s go for a little ride!”
“Will you guys be okay from here?” I asked the others.
They all nodded.
“Be careful, Frank,” Adriana pleaded. “You too, Joe.”
“We will,” I assured her. “Let’s get moving, Joe—every second counts!”