“Holy shit!” Steve swore as Curt cut off another taxi and there was a dull thump followed by the screech of metal against metal down the side of the truck. In the back of the van the loose pipe lengths were bouncing around, making a terrible racket. The troops were busy fending off not only the pipes but also a minor blizzard of nuts, bolts, and PCB pipe fittings that were raining down from where they were stored in shelves along both sides of the vehicle’s interior. The inevitable New York City potholes were making the situation desperate.

“Yuri, get out of the goddamned seat and let Steve sit there,” Curt yelled while fighting with the steering wheel.

“While we’re moving?” Yuri questioned. He was holding on with white knuckles.

“Of course while we’re moving,” Curt yelled.

Yuri swallowed nervously and then tried to rotate off the seat. Steve had moved over to give him room. But at the same time, Curt saw the suggestion of an opening in the neighboring lane and swerved to take advantage of it. The movement threw Yuri into him. Curt responded by swearing and fending Yuri off with a forearm before struggling to retain control of the racing vehicle.

While Yuri clawed his way into the back of the truck, Steve swung into the seat. Just ahead he could see Jack’s back. The medical examiner was pumping furiously. Jack was inching ahead between a speeding beer delivery truck and a Federal Express van.

“God damn it!” Curt yelled, as he could see Jack was about to slip in front of the vehicles. Curt was directly behind the beer truck. He leaned on his horn in frustration.

“Get a Glock!” Curt yelled to Steve. “I’m going to try to come alongside the bastard so you can nail him. The trouble is, I’m going to have to find a way to get around this truck.”

“What is this guy?” Steve questioned as he picked up one of the automatics and snapped off the safety. “A professional bicycle racer? He’s going faster than the traffic!”

The United Nations building loomed up on the right.

Curt cut into the neighboring lane. There was another cacophony of horns and shouts from behind. Curt pressed the accelerator to the floor and the van gained on the beer truck. He had to let up on his speed as he came within a few feet of a taxi, but he’d moved ahead enough to spot Jack, who was now directly even with them.

Steve lowered his window.

“What do you think?” Curt yelled at Steve.

“I could shoot him, but I wouldn’t be confident where I’d hit him,” Steve shouted back. “We’re bouncing around too much.”

“I’d cut in front of the truck if this goddamn taxi in front of us would move his ass,” Curt cried. As it was, they were slowly gaining on the beer delivery vehicle.