They pulled away. Spencer tilted his seat back a little, cracked his fingers, trying to find the zone, downshifted, and got crack-a-lacking.

They blasted up a freeway on-ramp, engine roaring on a high rev, third gear giving and giving and ready to give more, Spencer’s vision blocked by a high-sided semi, but it didn’t matter since he’d seen that coming and memorized the traffic pattern in all five lanes. He floored it and moved across the mental snapshot right into the carpool lane.

Eddie was speaking to Johnny Boy on his phone, on speakerphone since he was swaying around so much it was difficult to keep it pressed against his ear and stay upright. “We’re tryin’ the freeway. We’re four blocks west and I don’t know how many north: five, maybe six.”

About eight blocks south, on Rotunda Drive, Johnny Boy was managing to keep pace with the truck. He cut into the inside lane, getting honked to hell as he did so, and pulled up a little closer. He looked across just in time to see the back of a hand press itself against the thick glass.

Johnny Boy cut Eddie off. “His hand’s up! His goddamn hand’s up, he’s sending! You tell Spencer to pull his finger out of his ass, you hear me?”

Even over the sound of the Subaru’s engine, Eddie didn’t have to relay the message. Or its sentiment. The Yo-Yo turned in his seat, talked calmly, reasonably, his control merely enhancing the threat. “If you don’t catch him in ten minutes, we can’t get the access code or find out which bank he’s goin’ to.”

“Four blocks east, six south, ten minutes. Easy,” said Spencer, just as the traffic ground to a standstill. They had a heart attack moment when they heard sirens, but the cruisers raced by, up the shoulder.

Fucking freeways, what were you thinking?

Spencer’s mind churned. He looked around.

The Yo-Yo faced forward. “So help me, you better do something.”

Spencer jerked the wheel right. The BMW to their offside had no intention of letting him in, until their fenders touched. BMW guy clocked three men in the car forcing its way in front of him. One of them was huge. He decided he’d save his battles for the boardroom. They worked their way across to the shoulder like that and took off, just in front of an ambulance and behind a sheriff’s cruiser.

They saw the cop looking up in his mirror. Could sense his disbelief. He pulled up, forcing them to do likewise.

“You motherfucker,” said the Yo-Yo.

“Desperate times,” said Spencer. “Work with me.”

The deputy was out in an instant and furious. Spencer dropped his window.

“What the hell are you doing?” the deputy said.