And of course, he thought, there isn't a policeman in sight. But as the officer back at the Beer-Hall had said, most of the Landespolizei were tied up watching other meeting places and events. Besides, no one expected a car chase in the middle of the city itself.

Rodgers came back on. "Bob-- you're okay there. Get onto Goethe Strasse and continue east if you can. It's a straight run to Rathenau Strasse, which runs south. We'll try to get help to you over there--"

"Shit!" Herbert cried again, and dropped the phone.

As the van got closer, the gunman leaned from the window and began firing low, at the tires. Herbert had no choice but to drive into the less-crowded oncoming lane, the lane heading into town. He quickly put himself out of range.

Cars swung out of his way as he raced ahead. Suddenly, his flight was halted and his orientation rattled as he thumped hard into a pothole. Pinwheeling a half-turn toward the oncoming van, Herbert tapped the brake and took command of the spin. The van shot past him as he stopped facing west, facing the way he'd come.

The van screamed to a stop some fifty yards behind him.

Herbert was back within range. He grabbed the phone and hit the gas.

"Mike," he said, "we're goin' the other way now. Back along Goethe to Lange Laube."

"Understood," Rodgers said. "Darrell's on the phone too. Stay cool and we'll try to get you some help."

"I'm cool," Herbert said as he glanced back at the roaring van. "Just make sure I don't end up cold," he said.

He looked in his rearview mirror and saw the gunman reloading his weapon. They weren't going to give up, and sooner or later his luck would run out. As he looked in the mirror, he saw the wheelchair and decided to get in front of the van, press the button to activate the bucket, and dump his wheelchair under their wheels. It might not stop them, but it would certainly cause some damage. And if he lived, he'd have fun filling out the requisition form for a new one.

Reason for Loss. He thought of the only essay section of form L-5. "Dropped it from a speeding car to foil neo-Nazi assassins. "

Herbert slowed, let the van come closer, then pressed the button on the dash.

The rear door remained closed as a singsongy female voice informed him, "I'm sorry. This device will not operate while the car is in motion. "

Herbert slammed his palm on the gas pedal and sped up. He watched the van closely in his rearview mirror, staying dead-center in front of them as much as possible so the gunman wouldn't have much of a shot from the side window.