“Now he’s turning right on that busy street, what is it?”

“Eaton.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to block the bridge from the island,” Tommy said. “I’ll call you back as soon as I’ve given the order.”

“Okay.” Dino slapped his phone shut and made the turn onto Eaton, scaring the life out of a woman trying to cross the street. He could see the motorcycle, three or four blocks up the straight street, passing cars with abandon. His phone rang again. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got two cars on the way to the turnoff for U.S. One. Anybody leaving the island has to go that way.”

“The bike is red, looks Japanese,” Dino said. “I can’t get close enough for a plate, but he’s wearing a green windbreaker and a black helmet. He’ll be at the entrance to the Navy base in a few seconds.”

“I’ve got another car headed to the intersection of Eaton and Roosevelt Boulevard,” Tommy said. “I’ve told them to ram him, if possible.”

“He’s past the Navy entrance,” Dino said, “headed toward the bridge over Garrison Bight, where the sports fi shermen dock.”

“My car is at the light he’s coming up to,” Tommy said.

“I’m closing in on him just a little,” Dino said. He whipped around a car and jammed the accelerator to the floor as he ran up the bridge. He had to slow for a curve after leaving the bridge, and he looked up to see the intersection ahead. A police car on the other side of Roosevelt was plowing through the intersection as the motorcycle reached it. The rider braked, slid sideways, then regained balance, missing the cop car by inches. He turned onto Roosevelt and accelerated.

“Your guy at Roosevelt missed him,” Dino said. “He’s headed up the boulevard now, and he must be doing eighty. Your car is backing up to get onto Roosevelt.” Dino turned on his flashing caution lights and began using his horn.

“Don’t kill yourself or anybody else!” Tommy said. “We’ll head him off at the pass.”

Dino eased off and got stuck behind a line of traffic. Ten seconds later, he was in oncoming traffic, blowing his horn over and over.

Now he was free and up to ninety miles an hour. He saw the bike make the curve to the right. By the time he got to the turn, he was in the wrong lane again, signaling for a left turn onto U.S. 1. He made the corner with a great screeching of tires and saw two cop cars blocking the bridge. The motorcycle was on the sidewalk, getting past them.