Dirt (Stone Barrington 2)

“I’m getting wet,” Mary Ann said.

“Don’t melt,” Dino replied.

“There!” Stone pointed. Arrington was waving at them from the window of a cab. They all ran for it, and as they did, the limos began picking up speed. “Which car is he in?”

“That one,” Dino said nodding.

Stone tried to see inside, but the windows were tinted too darkly. Then he wondered if Dryer could be looking back at him through the opaque windows.

They piled into the cab with Arrington; Stone took the front seat. “Follow the third limo ahead,” he said to the driver.

“Oh, great,” the driver muttered. “How far we going? Queens? Montauk?”

“Shut up and drive,” Dino said, shoving his badge under the driver’s nose.

“Awright, awright,” the driver moaned.

“He’s crossing Seventh Avenue,” Dino said. “Keep up, and don’t let any more traffic get between him and us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the driver said.

They moved slowly toward 6th Avenue; then, as they approached the comer, the light turned red, trapping them while Dryer’s limo turned left.

“Shit,” Stone said.

“Look, what can I do?” the driver whined. “There’s two cars in front of me. You want me to drive over them?”

“He’s stopped at the next corner; we can still catch up.”

A raft of traffic moved past them on 6th Avenue. Now they were ten or twelve cars back. Finally the light changed and they were able to turn left, but the light at the next corner changed and they were stopped again.

“Have you got him in sight?” Dino asked.

“I think so.”

They struggled up 6th Avenue in heavy traffic, getting no closer to the limo, then they were stopped again.

“Uh-oh,” Dino said, pointing. A hundred yards ahead of them, Dryer was getting out of the limo.

“He’s heading for the subway,” Dino said.

Stone turned to Dino. “I’m going after him; you pull up at the subway entrance. If I’m not back in five minutes, will you take Arrington to my house?”

“Sure; you better get going.”

Stone got out of the cab and ran toward the subway entrance. The rain was pounding down now, and the steps were slippery as he clambered down them. As he descended into the station he saw Dryer going through the turnstiles, and at the same moment, he remembered that he had no tokens; he rarely took the subway. He hurried down the stairs, and he could hear a train coming into the station.

“The hell with the token,” he said to himself. He ran at the turnstile, planted a hand on it, and vaulted over. As he did, his raincoat caught on something, and he was jerked to a halt.

“Hold it right there!” somebody yelled, and before he could get his coat untangled a cop had him by the elbow.

“I’m on the job,” Stone lied.

“Yeah? Let’s see some ID, pal.”

Stone groped for his wallet, flashed the badge, and tried to go after Dryer, who was getting onto the subway train three cars from where he stood.

“Let’s see that,” the cop said, grabbing the wallet. “Retired, huh?