Empire (Empire 1)

“NASCAR drivers always double park. For quick getaways.” He locked the car using the remote. But Cole noticed that Rube still checked the locks visually. “I figured maybe there are closer parking places, but maybe not, and we’re extremely physically fit so walking won’t hurt us.”

“We do have government-issue shoes,” said Cole. “So we’re using up taxpayer money.”

“They pay for your shoes?” asked Rube.

“At Defense Department rates. So the left shoe is two hundred bucks, and the right shoe, which has to be separately requisitioned, is five hundred.”

Cole appreciated the fact that Rube chuckled. Cole knew it wasn’t really a good time to be making stupid jokes, but they also couldn’t brood about the assassination and the worries ahead of them—they had to keep their minds clear. Concentration was important, but so was distance. Maybe if they could laugh a little, they’d see more clearly.

And maybe Cole was so nervous himself that he couldn’t keep from cracking wise even when it was completely inappropriate. Especially then.

They didn’t make it to Ground Zero. They were still walking on Barclay Street when they heard an explosion. Then a siren. Then small-arms fire. Single shots. Then automatic weapons fire. Not a set of sounds you’d expect from ordinary criminal activity. The cops didn’t carry automatic weapons. And this sounded big. Cole knew that this was something too big for a couple of off-duty off-assignment Special Ops veterans to take on when the only weapons on them were pens and keys.

“I want to go back to Mingo’s car now,” said Rube.

They started back up the street. Broke into a jog at the same moment.

And then heard a loudspeaker behind them.

“We are not your enemies. We are fellow Americans here to protect your city from the unconstitutional government in Washington. Stay off the streets and you will not be hurt.”

They turned around to see what kind of vehicle was playing the recorded announcement. To see just what kind of evasive action they needed to take.

It was not a vehicle. Or maybe it was—there could be a human inside it. But it looked like a robot, about fourteen feet high, like a ball on two legs. It gave no sign of noticing them. Until they started to move. Then it zeroed in on them, started striding purposefully toward them, though it was still a hundred yards away.

Cole stopped. So did Rube. “Motion detectors?” asked Rube.

“Or a guy inside who just spotted us on his screen.”

“Or both.”

The loudspeaker sounded again. “Go inside. The streets are not safe.”

“So the message can change,” said Rube.

“I don’t want to go inside,” said Cole. “I want to get a really big gun and see what it takes to destroy that wonderful machine that’s here to protect me from the unconstitutional government in Washington.”

“I think that thing looks awkward and slow. Let’s see if we can outrun it.”

No further discussion was needed. They turned and ran.

“Stop and you will not be hurt. Stop and you will not be hurt.”

They did not stop.

“Stop now or you will be fired on.”

Cole glanced back over his shoulder. The machine had just kicked up into a higher gear.

“It’s faster than we are,” said Cole.

“It’s faster than we were” said Rube, and he nearly doubled his speed.

So the major hadn’t gotten out of shape during his desk-jockey days. Cole had a hard time catching up to him.

Gunfire began. The warning repeated.

“Blanks so far,” said Cole.