Sinister Barrier Read Online Free PDF Page A

his preliminary work. Frequently we get results for our money.”
    Wohl refrained from further comment while he concentrated on handling his machine. William Street slid rapidly toward them, its skyscrapers resembling oncoming giants.
    With a sharp turn which produced a yelp of tormented rubber from the rear wheel, the gyrocar spun off the skyway and onto a descending corkscrew. It whirled down the spirals with giddying effect.
    They hit ground level still at top pace, and Wohl straightened out, saying, “Those whirligigs sure give me a kick!”
    Graham swallowed a suitable remark, his attention caught by the long, low, streamlined, aluminum-bronze shape of an advancing gyrocar. It flashed toward them along William Street, passed with an audible swish of ripped air, shot up the ramp to the corkscrew from which they’d just emerged. As it flashed by, Graham’s sharp eyes registered the pale, haggard face staring fixedly through the machine’s plastiglass windshield.
    “There he goes!” exclaimed Graham, urgently. “Quick, Wohl—that was Dakin!”
    Frantically spinning his wheel, and turning the gyrocar in its own length, Wohl fed current to the powerful dynamo. The machine leaped forward, hogged a narrow gap between two descending cars and charged madly up the ramp.
    “He’ll be about six turns above us and near the top,” Graham hazarded.
    Grunting assent, Wohl muscled his controls while the police speedster spiralled rapidly upward. The fifth twist brought them behind an ancient, four-wheeled automobile holding the center of the shute and laboriously struggling along at a mere thirty.
    They gave an impromptu demonstration of the greater mechanical advantage of two wheels with power on both. Cursing violently, Wohl swerved, fed juice, shot around the antiquated obstruction at fifty, leaving its driver jittering in his seat.
    Like a monster silver bullet, their vehicle burst from the corkscrew onto the skyway, scattered a flock of private machines, dropped them behind. The speedometer said ninety.
    Half a mile ahead, their aluminum-bronze quarry hummed full tilt along the elevated artery and maintained its lead.
    Moving his emergency power lever, Wohl grumbled, “This is going to make junk of the batteries.”
    The gyrocar surged until its speedometer needle trembled over the hundred mark. The gyroscope’s casing broadcast the angry sound of a million imprisoned bees. A hundred and ten. The tubular steel supports of the skyway railing zipped past like a solid fence, with no intervals apparent between them. One-twenty.
    “The Grand Intersection humpback!” Graham shouted, warningly.
    “If he hits it at this crazy pace he’ll jump more than a hundred feet,” growled Wohl. He narrowed his eyes as he squinted anxiously forward. “His ’scope will give him a square landing, but it won’t save his tires. One of them will burst for sure. He’s driving like a blithering maniac!”
    “That’s what makes it so obvious that something is damnably wrong.” Centrifugal force held Graham’s breath for him as they cut around another decrepit four-wheeler whose driver managed to gesticulate within the split-second available.
    “Every jalopy ought to be banned from the skyways,” Wohl snarled. He stared ahead. The shining shape of their quarry was whirling headlong around the shallow bend leading to Grand Intersection. “We’ve gained a bare hundred yards. He’s driving all out, and he’s got a special sports model at that. You’d think someone was chasing him.”
    “We are,” remarked Graham dryly. His eyes sought the rear-view mirror while his mind considered the likelihood of Dakin being pursued by someone other than themselves. What was Dakin running from, anyway? What did Mayo take a death-dive to escape? What did Webb shoot at as his dying act of defiance? What wiped out Bjornsen and made Luther expire with a gabble on his lips?
    He gave up the fruitless speculation, noted that the road behind was clear