The Bad Place Read Online Free PDF Page B

beside her, shoved open the door, and rolled out, moving fast and staying low.
    The other gunman was already in the blue Ford van. He gave it gas before remembering to shift out of park, so the tires screamed and smoked.
    Julie squeezed off two short bursts from the Uzi, blowing out both tires on her side of the van.
    But the gunman didn’t stop. He shifted gears at last and tried to drive past her on two ruined tires.
    The guy might have killed Bobby; now he was getting away. He would probably never be found if Julie didn’t stop him. Reluctantly she swung the Uzi higher and emptied the magazine into the side window of the van. The Ford accelerated, then suddenly slowed and swung to the right, at steadily diminishing speed, in a long arc that carried it to the far curb, where it came to a halt with a jolt.
    No one got out.
    Keeping an eye on the Ford, Julie leaned into her car, plucked a spare magazine from the seat, and reloaded the Uzi. She approached the idling van cautiously and pulled open the door, but caution was not required because the man behind the wheel was dead. Feeling a little sick, she reached in and switched off the engine.
    Briefly, as she turned from the Ford and hurried toward the bullet-riddled Dodge, the only sounds she could hear were the soughing of a faint breeze in the lush corporate landscaping that flanked the street, punctuated by the gentle hiss and rattle of palm fronds. Then she also heard the idling engine of the Dodge, simultaneously smelled gasoline, and shouted, “Bobby!”
    Before she reached the white van, the back doors creaked open, and Bobby came out, shedding twists of metal, chunks of plastic, bits of glass, wood chips, and scraps of paper. He was gasping, no doubt because the gasoline fumes had driven most of the breathable air out of the Dodge’s rear quarters.
    Sirens rose in the distance.
    Together they quickly walked away from the van. They had gone only a few steps when orange light flared and flames rose in a wooooosh from the gasoline pooled on the pavement, enveloping the vehicle in bright shrouds. They hurried beyond the corona of intense heat that surrounded the Dodge and stood for a moment, blinking at the wreckage, then at each other.
    The sirens were drawing nearer.
    He said, “You’re bleeding.”
    “Just skinned my forehead a little.”
    “You sure?”
    “It’s nothing. What about you?”
    He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m okay.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah.”
    “You weren’t hit?”
    “Unmarked. It’s a miracle.”
    “Bobby?”
    “What?”
    “I couldn’t handle it if you’d turned up dead in there.”
    “I’m not dead. I’m fine.”
    “Thank God,” she said.
    Then she kicked his right shin.
    “Ow! What the hell?”
    She kicked his left shin.
    “Julie, dammit!”
    “Don’t you ever tell me to cut and run.”
    “What?”
    “I’m a full half of this partnership in every way.”
    “But—”
    “I’m as smart as you, as fast as you—”
    He glanced at the dead man on the street, the other one in the Ford van, half visible through the open door, and he said, “That’s for sure, babe.”
    “—as tough as you—”
    “I know, I know. Don’t kick me again.”
    She said, “What about Rasmussen?”
    Bobby looked up at the Decodyne building. “You think he’s still in there?”
    “The only exits from the parking lot are onto Michaelson, and he hasn’t come out this way, so unless he fled on foot, he’s in there, all right. We’ve got to nail him before he slides out of the trap with those diskettes.”
    “Nothing worthwhile on the diskettes anyway,” Bobby said.
    Decodyne had been on to Rasmussen from the time he applied for the job, because Dakota & Dakota Investigations— which was contracted to handle the company’s security checks—had penetrated the hacker’s highly sophisticated false ID. Decodyne’s management wanted to play along with Rasmussen long enough to discover to whom he would pass the Whizard files when he