Michelle Qwan snapped out the folding stock to her machine pistol and reversed the weapon in her hands. Keeping her eyes on the grenade, she swung the weapon back and neatly chipped the grenade out of the elevator and lofted it into the parking garage as good as Tiger Woods getting out of the rough and onto the green at Augusta.
The timer fuse on an M-26 grenade is five seconds, by the way. It exploded in mid-air with a mighty roar, taking out a hot water pipe that spewed scalding hot water, that mixed with the cold water gushing out of the sprinkers, to cause steam to bellow forth over the area in front of the elevator.
"That's our cue, ladies!" Jeb shouted. Both he and Qwan fired into the smoke and flames to cover the others as they hurried out of the elevator and scattered amongst the parked cars, trying to find one to hide behind that wasn't burning or exploding.
Jeb Stuart and Michelle Qwan were last, running towards a parked Toyota Celica as Sweet and Awai banged away with their pistols to cover them.
Like everybody else, they were instantly soaked to the skin by the gushing sprinklers that refused to quit. Add in the ringing fire alarms, the steam, flames, smoke and near constant machinegun fire coming down on them and you had a madhouse.
Qwan was hunkered down by Jeb. "Do you think any of Langley's crew made it?!" She shouted into his ear over the din.
"Let's ask him!" Jeb shouted back. He nodded to a spot five cars over where a wounded Langley was tucked down in the wheel well of a parked Lexus.
Jeb looked over to Sweet and Awai "Gwen! Keep an eye on Drew and Tai! Yukari, cover us!"
"Yo-kai!" Yukari shouted. Sweet just nodded and took off to find the others.
Jeb and Qwan kept low and made it over to Langley's postion. On the way, Qwan spotted a young Arab man moving between two cars. She dropped him with a quick, three-round burst, only to see him get back up and stagger away.
They two finally made it to Langley, who was prone on the cold, wet pavement with a bad shoulder wound.
"Motherfuckers caught us cold halfway to our cars!" he shouted by way of a greeting. "Took out three of my guys in the first barrage..."
"What about Abbas and Fahd?" Qwan shouted.
"They took off!" Langley said. "Probably out of their restraints and joining in the fun by now!"
"Jeb!" Qwan shouted. "I make seven to eight shooters... all with body armour! So go for a head shot!"
They all ducked down as a carbine on full auto erupted not far from them. Qwan and Jeb looked up to see another young Arab tumble face first onto the wet pavement from the hood of the Lexus, his chest --and Kevlar vest-- ripped open from belly to shoulders.
"Ya-ta!!!" Yukari Mei Awai said. She was standing behind a concrete post, now carrying one of the big M4 carbines she had taken off one of Langley's dead crew. The petite Japanese policewoman was still dressed in a soaked hotel maid's uniform.
"We have AP rounds loaded into our M4s!" Langley said. "If we can find any more of those babies, we might have an edge!"
***
Gwen Sweet ducked down as another car exploded near her, sending pebbled safety glass and burning metal flying over her.
She had no idea where Drew and Tai Anne had run off to, but she did know that at least three hostiles were working their way up to her position. All were armed with what looked like Russian AK-74s --which were chopped down AK-47s-- while she had her trusty little .40 cal S&W service piece.
As another long burst of fire ripped up a parked Infiniti from stem to stern, she took cover behind the left front tire. Her hearing was shot --nothing but ringing in her ears-- so she ducked down and looked under the car, seeing a set of scruffy men's combat boots and blue jeans moving around the other side of the Infiniti.
Without a second thought she aimed under the car at the ankle of the man and fired. His foot was blown out from under him and Sweet kept firing into his chest and face until he was dead.
She ejected the spent clip and reloaded. She was going to try to make a grab for the bad guy's AK when his friends moved in, and they sounded pissed off as they shouted stuff in Arabic as they fired wildly into the cars.
Sweet cranked off a few more rounds but she was on her last clip, so she started backing off, which is when she felt something smack into her left leg about midway between calf and thigh.
What was that? Sweet thought as her leg dropped out from under her and she fell to the cold, wet pavement. She rolled next to the back wheel of a parked Honda Accord and in the flickering flurescent lights saw she had taken a bullet clean through her leg that was pumping blood at a ferocious rate.
Fuck! This just ain't my day!
***
Drew Thrasher was laying low between two parked cars with Tai Anne Roper underneath her. She had no idea where the others were, but she could hear gunfire off to her right and left. Every once in awhile a stray round would hit a windshield or some sideglass near them, but for now it seemed like they were out of harms way.
Tai Anne was sobbing and holding on tight to Drew. She tried to comfort her as she risked a peek over the hood of the car and saw Fannikins Wenche --still cuffed and ballgagged-- making her way along a line of parked cars to a steel door marked SOUTH 02 STAIRS.
Blinking away the constant sprinkle of water on her, Drew saw The Wenche yank the door open and disappear.
"That bitch!" Drew said aloud. Suddenly, all of the of the humiliations and tortures that both she and Tai Anne had endured at the hands of The Wenche welled up inside of Drew, becoming an anger that would not be denied.
"You stay here!" Drew ordered Tai. "Don't move an inch! I'll be right back!"
Drew kissed her and went after the Wenche.
***
Meanwhile Qwan, Yukari and Jeb were holding their own. The firepower of the big M4 carbine that Yukari was welding adding to their own arsenal and keeping the bad guys at bay.
"What about some backup!" Qwan shouted at Langley as she tried to stabilize his shoulder wound with his shirt and tie.
"I called it in, but procedure calls for a perimeter to be established and then a recon team," Langley croaked back. "Just between you and me, we're on our own, Mountie!"
That's when Qwan spotted Abbas --still in the orange jumpsuit that he had been given, but free of his chains-- running away from the firefight with a chopped down AK-74 in his hands. She saw him duck into a doorway marked NORTH 01 STAIRS.
"Jeb!" Qwan shouted. "Abbas is making a break for it, can you hold down the fort?"
Jeb had an SOCOM Hk-23 pistol in each hand --having copped Langley's-- and looked like an extra from a John Woo movie.
"Yeah," he said. "Go for it."
"Awai, stay with Langley!" Qwan shouted. Then she was off after Abbas, ducking low down a row of cars.
***
Drew Thrasher had entered the stairwell and followed The Wenche's wet boot prints down one flight to parking level LL3.
Her ears were still ringing, but the heavy steel door and the concrete stairs were muffling the sounds of the firefight going on above her.
And I left Tai up there in the middle of it! That glaring lack of logic shocked the staid journalist in her, but the woman who had been violated by that... cackling harpy, just couldn't let her go.
Drew came out on LL3. This level was quiet, with no clanging fire alarms or sprinklers going. It was about half full of cars and well lit.
"So where the fuck are you, Wenche?" Drew whispered. Even if she was trying to escape she was still cuffed behind her back at wrist and elbows and ballgagged.
Suddenly something slammed into Drew and pinned her to the hood of black BMW.
"Don't move, infidel bitch!!!" The young, angry voice was reinforced by a gun barrel jammed into her ear. "Hands on your head!"
Drew complied and she was yanked off the hood of the car with equal force to find herself facing not one, but two angry young Arabs. One had what she recognised as a Czech v.61 Skorpion machine pistol pointed at her head. The other had his arms wrapped around the body of the bound Wenche, who was humming into her gag as he kept a K-bar survival knife tight to her throat.
"Achmed!" The one with the machine pistol hissed. "This is the one! The bitch that Gamal was looking for!"
"What about this one?" Achmed asked as he continued to nervously grope The Wenche's wet spandexed breasts.
"Cut her throat."
Achmed shrugged and forced The Wenche's head back as he stepped to one side to avoid the arterial spray.
An instant later Achmed was brutally kicked in the face and was dropping to the pavement.
Tai Anne Roper was suddenly... just there, having leaped gracefully onto the trunk of a Buick sedan and sent her booted foot right upside Achmed's head.
His partner swung around to bring his machine pistol to bear on her while shoving Drew to the ground. Tai launched a spin kick that sent his gun spiraling off to the left, then she dropped down to the concrete and went to her Aikido defensive stance that her mama-san had taught her.
The young Arab took a step back and flicked open an evil looking folding knife, charging towards Tai as he slashed at the air with it.
Tai sidestepped, deflected his knife hand and drove her fist into his throat followed by her elbow into his nose. She dropped him like a bad habit.
The Wenche squalled into her gag to warn Tai as Achmed managed to get to his feet. Tai strode forward and launched a powerful bodykick that caught him square in the chest and sent him slamming into the side of a parked Ford sedan hard enough to shatter the sideglass and cause the car alarm to start wailing. He slid to the ground, unconscious.
"Tai!" Drew got up and hugged her tight. She then pulled back and looked at her. "You... okay?"
"Okay?" Tai smirked. "Jiminy Crickets, I thought I did better than okay..."
***
Michelle Qwan kept climbing the stairs up, taking the steps two at a time as she followed Abbas The Lion up into the First Interstate Center Towers.
Already she was passing the ninth floor. The only way she knew he hadn't given her the slip on a lower level was that each set of security doors leading out to the main floor were locked and had an alarm. At this time of night, the office levels were already closed for the day.
Qwan stopped for a second and peeked up the stairwell. She was still soaked to the skin, and had thrown off her ruined white silk coat as soon as she had entered the stairwell.
From three flights up, Abbas cut lose with a long burst of fire from his carbine as he aimed down at her. Qwan ducked back as bullets hammered around her, ricocheting off the concrete. By the time she brought her own machine pistol to bear, he was gone.
Abbas snapped in a fresh clip as he continued running upstairs. As always, he had a plan. After first entering this building, his comrades had hidden a 'goodie bag' on the 21st floor. It held more guns and ammo, plus the blue uniform of a San Francisco police officer. Abbas intended to change to that uniform and just walk out the front door. But first he had to lose this miserable infidel bitch...
He stopped and peeked over the edge of the railing to see if he could take another shot at her. Qwan was waiting for him, unloading an entire clip at him from two stories down.
Abbas shrieked as bullets hummed about him. A couple of rounds sparked off his AK-74, and another burned through his forearm just missing his wristbone. Abbas watched helplessly as his carbine slipped free of his hand and tumbled down the stairwell.
"Bitch!!!" he screamed. That was his only weapon save for two hand grenades. He pulled the pin on one and threw it down the stairwell, aiming for the level she was on.
A few moments later he heard a satifying explosion and saw a cloud of white dust rising up from where she had been.
Abbas the Lion kept moving.
***
Her back to a concrete post, Gwen Sweet closed her eyes as another car exploded, almost flipping over in the enclosed space, while water from the fire sprinklers lashed ineffectively at the new blaze.
They were closing in. Tossing grenades and firing machine guns at her. You assholes ever hear of 'overkill'? she thought.
She kept her back to the concrete pillar and looked for an opening to return fire as at least two of them closed in, concentrating their automatic weapons fire on the pillar she was hiding behind, and not noticing Jeb Stuart moving in to the right.
He rose up from behind a parked Hynandai Sonata with a pistol in each hand and neatly dropped them both with head shots.
Sweet watched he ran to the bodies, scooped up their carbines and spare banana clips and hurried to her position.
"If I wasn't already married..." Sweet said.
"Lemme see that leg." Jeb quickly examined the wound and pulled his ruined silk tie off to wrap it with. "You're lucky, bullet missed the bone and didn't nick any arteries."
"Yeah, but my bikini days are over," Sweet replied. "Where's the others?"
"Yukari's back with Langley, Qwan's God knows where," Jeb replied as he handed her an AK-74. "You find Drew and Tai?"
"Sorry, met these assholes first." She checked the clip and worked the action. "They gotta be off that way... no shooting over there."
"Then let's hope for the best and get back to Yukari," Jeb said, pulling Sweet to her feet.
***
"Hold still, Wenche!" Tai Anne Roper growled.
"Tai," Drew said. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"You saying I can't pick these locks?" Tai asked. She was standing over The Wenche, trying to get the police issue handcuffs off her wrists and elbows with the lockpicks she had secreted in the band of her Casio G-Shock.
"No," Drew replied. "I meant should you be picking these locks!"
The Wenche groaned as Tai freed her wrists. Tai had already removed the ballgag. Tai now started on the other set of cuffs at her elbows.
"Doesn't matter," Tai said. "I know Fiendly. Holding onto the Wenche won't get us Jessica back. And from what you've told me, he's probably already made the transfer."
"Granted," Drew answered. "But doesn't the concept of revenge interest you? I can't believe that after all this bitch has done to us you actually intend to let her go!"
"Oh come on, Drew!" The Wenche said. "Don't be such a prig, you had more fun in the last six hours than you've probably had in your entire life!"
The Wenche gasped as Tai yanked her head back by her hair. "Don't push it, bitch."
Tai finally triumphed over the last set of cuffs. The Wenche rubbed her arms and wrists
gratefully.
"So!" she said. "Now what?"
"Get outta here, before I change my mind," Tai replied. "And I suggest you and Fiendly keep at least one continent between you and Jeb Stuart."
"Okay. Toodles!" The Wenche took off running.
"What now?" Drew asked wearily, running her fingers through her wet hair.
"Get back to Jeb, find some guns, kick some ass," Tai replied.
"I do not think so, infidel bitch."
Both women turned. Stepping out from the shadows was a big bruiser of an Arab, dressed in black. A man mountain with muscles on muscles.
"I am Gamal of the Fist of Allah," he announced as he strode towards them. He pointed at Drew. "You will come with me." He then pointed to Tai. "And you will die."
"You'll excuse the hell outta me if I don't just lay down for you," Tai said, slipping into her defensive stance again.
"Tai..." Drew started.
"Shaddup, Drew, I can take him," Tai said. She then turned and whispered. "But just in case I can't, find that gun one of the bad guys dropped!"
Gamal lumbered towards Tai and made a grab for her. She ducked under his arm and kicked him in his ribs with all her might. It was like kicking a redwood. He swung at her. She sidestepped and unleashed another kick right to the solar plexus, just under the rib cage.
She followed through with a kick to the throat and face.
Gamal laughed.
"Keep laughing, asshole," Tai muttered. She tried to block a swing and got knocked on her ass. She rolled out of it and was back on her feet.
"This is tooooo easy..." Gamal snickered.
Suddenly a set of headlights flared on before them as an engine kicked over, and a parked Chevy Caprice sedan lurched forward. Tai jumped out of the way as the car surged into Gamal and smashed him broadside into a parked Lincoln Navigator.
"Good going, Drew!" Tai shouted over the wailing car alarm.
"What're you talking about?" Drew shouted back from three cars over. "I'm still trying to find that bloody gun!"
"Then who..." Tai looked back at the Chevy to see Fannikins Wenche kicking back the sprung door. Between the seat belt and the driver's side airbag, she had survived without a scratch.
"Figured I owed you one, Roper," she said with a smirk as she got out and approached her.
There was a sudden grinding sound from the cracked up front cap of the Chevy, where a busted radiator was spewing green coolant all over the pavement. Both women looked wide-eyed as the car was pushed backwards and a bloody but unbowed Gamal got to his feet and started towards them again.
"Holy James Cameron, Batman," Tai said to The Wenche. "What now?"
"Perhaps a bigger car," The Wenche answered.
***
Michelle Qwan continued up the stairs after Abbas. The grenade he had lobbed at her had been close, but no cigar.
She was in good shape, but she was also panting as she passed the 16th floor. Sweat was replacing the cool soaking she had taken from the fire sprinklers down on LL2.
As she passed the 17th floor she stopped. The intermitent blood trail she had picked up a few floors back now veered to the door leading to the main corridor of 17. Also, the lock was sprung.
She considered her options. If Abbas had a stash somewhere in this building, he'd want to get rid of her before he got to it. With the clues he had just left her, he might as well have left a flashing neon sign that said follow me!!!.
Qwan checked the door and carefully opened it. The cool wash of air from the corridor chilled her to the bone. She slipped into the corridor with her machine pistol at the ready.
This floor belonged to a big law firm and the Bay Area's biggest reality company. The floors were polished marble, with big offices behind smoked glass and big oak doors. The lights were low, and it was still and quiet.
Qwan saw no sign of anybody working late, or even a janitor mopping the floors. She moved down the corridor, keeping her back to the wall and her finger tight on the trigger.
She stopped and took a deep breath and held it. Something... wasn't right. She then realized that the cool air blowing on her damp body had shifted, causing goosebumps on her bare arms.
She turned, watching a door silently open from down the corridor where she had come.
She dropped to one knee and aimed the machine pistol at the door. She didn't want to blow away somebody who was just working late...
Abbas pulled the pin on his last grenade and swung around to pitch it down the corridor, Qwan cut loose with a short burst that caught him in the chest. He stumbled back and fell to the floor, the grenade rolling out of his hand.
Qwan was just getting ready to move forward when an explosion rocked the entire floor, splintering both oak doors off their hinges and shattering a lot of smoked glass.
There wasn't a lot of smoke, so the fire alarm didn't go off. Ears ringing, Michelle Qwan carefully eased down the corridor to the doorway.
Ali bin Fatale, aka Abbas the Lion was sprawled on the carpeted floor of the law office. Blood was everywhere. His left leg was about six feet away, and his right leg was lying across his chest. Everything in between had been turned into strawberry jam.
Being careful not to step in the blood, Qwan approached him, keeping her gun trained on his bloodied face.
His eyes opened and he looked at her.
"Shoo' me," he croaked.
"Who am I?" Qwan replied.
"Infidel bitch."
"Who am I?" Qwan shouted.
"You... are one of the police... in Vancouver," Abbas whispered. "I saw you... from a block away. Bringing out the other two police... you were crying... screaming... like a child. Now shoot me."
Qwan took a deep breath and flicked the machine pistol's safety on.
"Sorry, Abbas, but I am different from you," Qwan said. "Maybe not by much... but enough so that I can sleep at night."
She got up and started down the corridor. She stopped and turned. "But if it makes you feel an better, I think you'll be dead before the paramedics get here."
Michelle Qwan turned her back on him and hurried back to the stairs to see if she could help Jeb.
***
"Those motherfuckers!" Gwen Sweet shouted. "They're bugging out on us!"
Fate had not been kind to the unknown allies of the Fist of Allah. Now armed with equal firepower, the bad guys were down to three, and they had made it to a parked burgundy GMC Savana custom van. Jeb recognized Fahd the Panther as being behind the wheel.
Jeb allowed himself a smile, instead of just being happy that they had survived the battle, Sweet was pissed off that some of the bad guys were getting away.
The GMC van pulled off, despite both Yukari and Sweet emptying full clips of ammo into it. No doubt it had bullet resistant tires, glass and side panels.
Still, maybe I can do something about this Jeb thought. The van squealed around a tight turn, heading for the ramp leading up to street level. They would have to pass the parked Agency Suburban that Jeb had borrowed from Langley.
Jeb took out the keyring that had the do-hickey to set the alarm, unlock the doors and open the back gate. He pointed it at the Suburban and tried to remember the self destruct code...
Letsee... alarm - alarm - back gate - door - door...
The Suburban exploded in a massive fireball that enveloped the van as it passed. The van, Fahd and his associates were blown to fiery pieces that were scattered over the rest of the parking level.
Gwen Sweet whooped and hollered, as did Yukari, even as other burning cars began to explode.
"Excuse me, ladies," Jeb said. "But before we start the traditional victory dance, I suggest we find the other members of our party!"
***
It wasn't just that Gamal the Camel was kicking Tai Anne Roper's ass into next week, it was that he was also effortlessly kicking The Wenche's butt as well.
The Wenche threw a karate kick at him that connected to no noticable effect. He grabbed her by her booted leg and tossed her like a rag doll into the air.
Tai connected with a kick to the groin. Gamal just backhanded her with enough force to send her skimming across the hood of a parked Beemer. She impacted the windshield with enough force to spiderweb the glass, knocking her out.
"Are you bitches done?" Gamal asked, scratching his balls in irritation.
"Not quite, shithead." Drew said. She was twenty feet away, holding the Czech v.61 machine pistol in her hands.
Gamal turned to face her and immediately threw up his arms to cover his face as she cut lose with all twenty rounds that struck him in the chest and face and knocked him back into a concrete pillar.
Drew dropped the empty piece and ran to The Wenche. who was groaning as she tried to get to her feet.
"C'mon, Fannikins!" Drew pulled her up. "We don't have a lot of time!"
Together, the two women ran to where Tai was laid out on the hood of the Beemer and pulled her off and into their arms.
Gamal was already getting to his feet, shaking his head as he worked his jaw and spat out a couple of bullets lodged in his teeth. He wiped the blood out of his eyes and grunted when he saw his quarry.
"Let's beat feet, girls!" The Wenche advised. Dragging Tai between them, they ran into the semi-darkness, ducking and weaving between parked cars.
"You bitches think you can hide from me?!" Gamal bellowed, his voice echoing throughput the level.
"I am not hiding."
Gamal frowned. Walking down the center of the drive was a slight, yet quite pretty East Indian girl dressed in jeans and a traditional indigo Sari.
"And who the fuck are you?" Gamal snarled.
"I am Shakira," she answered. "High Priestess and Avatar of the Goddess Kali..."
"Filthy Hindi bitch!" Gamal spat. He started towards her. "I have destroyed many of your temples for the glory of Allah... as I shall destroy you!"
"I know of your crimes againt the Faithful," Shakira replied. "And hiding behind the sanctity of your false god will not spare you from the rage of the Kali-Ma."
Gamal reached her, taking her by the throat with both hands to squeeze her head off her shoulders as he had done to many women before.
Not this time.
To his horror, Gamal felt the muscles and bones under his grip begin to flex and grow. Shakira's eyes shifted to red, glowing orbs as her body expanded and her skin color went from an earthy brown to a deep, midnight black.
***
"What the fuck is happening?" The Wenche asked. The three women were hunkered down between cars about three rows over.
"I dunno," Drew whispered. "Stay with Tai, I'll check it out."
***
Gamal stumbled back, not believing his eyes as the massive creature shifted towards him. She possessed a terrible beauty. Full breasts, a sinewy body with four corded arms, long black hair and a crooked, razor blade smile that split her face from ear to ear.
He pulled a long commando knife from his boot and tried to keep away the four massive hands with the razor sharp talons for fingernails that were trying to snatch him off the ground.
"Gamal... you have inflicted death and sssuffering on my Faithful!" The Kali-Ma rasped. "And for that you mussst die!!!"
The Kali-Ma snatched up Gamal like a rag doll and proceeded to exact her revenge.
Drew Thrasher hid behind a car and watched this revenge with wide, disbelieving eyes. She had been a reporter for fourteen years, and had been to every hellhole on the globe from Kosovo to Kashmir, seeing sights both bloody and unbelieveable. But nothing had prepared her for this.
***
Tai Anne Roper groaned, coming awake to find herself in The Wenche's arms.
"Ugh... where am I?"
"Hush, Roper," The Wenche whispered. "The Incredible Bulk is still about..."
The two women hugged each other as a long, terrible scream echoed through out the parking garage. It seemed to last forever.
They sat and waited for whatever fate would bring. Finally both of them took a breath as Drew approached, weaving her way between the parked vehicles.
"It's safe," she said simply. "We can go."
Tai and The Wenche got to their feet. Tai noticed that Drew was shaking like a leaf and pale as a ghost.
"Drew, what happened?"
Drew shook her head. "N-not now. Let's just get the hell out of here."
The followed her out to the closest stairwell. The Wenche screamed when she saw the bodies.
First there were the bodies of the two men that Tai had knocked unconscious. They were both now dead. Eviserated from head to toe and missing their heads. Strangely, there was very little blood.
And then there was Gamal. Or what was left of him. It took a second for Tai to realize what had happened to him. It appeared that someone --or something-- had picked him up and wrung him out like a wet towel. His body was corkscrewed from head to toes, with blood, splintered bones and vital organs squeezed out onto the pavement around him.
Tai noticed the body was still shifting and shivering... and there was whimpering from where the head should be.
"Ohmigawd," Tai whispered. "He's still alive!"
"Come along," Drew pushed them towards the stairwell.
Once in the quiet and calm of the stairwell, all seemed normal.
"Drew!!! Tai!!!" They heard Jeb's voice from upstairs.
"That's my cue to amscray," Fannikins Wenche said.
"Thanks for backing me up, Wenche," Tai said.
"Anytime." The Wenche kissed Tai on the lips then took off downstairs to the maintenance level.
"We're down here, Jeb!" Drew called. She took Tai by the hand. "Com'n. Lets get while the getting is good."
Tai Anne Roper nodded and followed her friend.
***
Fannikins Wenche proceeded to use the escape route Fiendly had come up with. Down a few maintenance access tunnels and through a few vent shafts... Finally she climbed up a steep flight of steps and came out on California Street.
It probably only seemed like every police car and fire truck the city owned was encircled about the First Interstate Towers, with hundreds of blue and red lightbars strobing into the night, while police helicopters orbited the towers above.
The Wenche pulled at her short leather shirt --which seemed to be shrinking as it dried from the dousing it took-- and started walking east on California.
Soon the cop cars began to thin out, as did the crowds of curious people. As she crossed Battery a boss looking, sixties black Shelby Mustang stopped and tooted its horn at her. The dark tinted glass made it impossible to see who was driving.
Fannikins Wenche smiled. Why not? Finding a cab would be next to impossible...
She opened the door and quickly slipped into the passenger side.
"Thanks for the... lift." The Wenche paused as she felt the hard barrel of a gun jam itself into her ear. She saw that the gun was a nickeled .45 Colt and the driver was Crowe T. Grackel.
"Ah, ever the gentleman, you are!" The Wenche said dryly.
"Shut your hole, bitch," Grackel hissed. "And hands behind your back!"
The Wenche leaned forward and complied. She felt the familar kiss of cold steel cuffs around her wrists. Then, just to keep her life consistant, he strapped a rubber ballgag into her mouth.
Crowe T. Grackel laughed like a lunatic as he made off with his prize.