“He’ll be here,” said Johnny Boy. He tensed, racked with doubt, on the edge of making a decision. Then: “Get out.” Eddie didn’t move. “Get out! Now! Wait for that clown. I’ll follow Max and call you to say where we’ve got to.”

Moments later he was gone, leaving Eddie standing on the sidewalk with a big empty duffel bag.

Johnny Boy wasn’t the only one having a bad start to his day.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘revoked’?” said Scott.

The civilian flight scheduler at the other end of the line peered at his screen in the MSP’s Aviation Unit office at Lansing.

“Yeah, you had clearance last night. Not this morning, though. Happens automatically now. DPD’s often late paying fuel bills, sometimes by weeks.”

Scott pulled over onto the shoulder of the seventy-five. “This is a high-priority op.”

“I want to help, but, fact is, someone in DPD accounts will have been notified, it—”

“Happens automatically, yeah I get it. What can I do?”

“Depends on whether your precinct needs an emergency extra allocation of funds.”

“The mayor,” said Scott. The irony was painful.

“Yeah, or the City Council, but . . .” the flight scheduler hesitated. “Truth is, we’ve got heavy demand today. If you lose your place on the list . . .”

Scott ended the call. Panic burned his insides.

Eddie sat on a bench with the duffel bag in his lap.

Suddenly Spencer’s car roared past him, skidded to a stop, and backed up.

Eddie leapt up from the bench, yanked open the rear door of the Subaru, and piled in.

“Head north, hit Warren, and head east,” he said to Spencer. “They’ve got a thirteen-minute head start.”

Spencer was jerked sideways as the Yo-Yo gave his seat an almighty punch.

“Go!”

Spencer flipped a U into a nonexistent gap and lit the fires.

He worked through the sludgy morning traffic, milking every gap, every underused lane. His moves were so quick, so judged that not one car sounded its horn or had to take evasive action. The Subaru was simply there, in their view for an instant, and then not there.

The Yo-Yo made a call on his phone. “Yeah, Denny? You at McLean yet?”

The mention of Chris’s street caught Spencer’s attention. He glanced around and found himself eye locking the Yo-Yo, who’d obviously been expecting him to do just that. Spencer turned back to the road, but he could feel the other man’s eyes on him during the ensuing conversation.

“Go home, Denny. It’s taken care of.” The Yo-Yo killed the call.

Spencer couldn’t figure out whether Chris was dead or the Yo-Yo was just mind fucking him. Chris had sounded so sure.

“Hey, watch the fuck out!” said Eddie.

They screeched to a halt. Spencer had nearly hit a stroller on a crossing as they ran a red.

The Yo-Yo snorted disdainfully.