Moreau 2 - Emperors of Twilight by S. Andrew Swann

Author:S. Andrew Swann [Swann, S. Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780886775896
Publisher: DAW Books
Published: 1994-01-05T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

The lower level of the bridge was undergoing repairs. The work had stopped for the holiday. Evi drove the Mirador through a few sawhorses and past a few detour signs to get on the lower thoroughfare, where she could have some privacy.

She drove past city vehicles, dumptrucks, and silent construction equipment. She slowed as she went on, and the Mirador started vibrating as she hit the old concrete. To her right, the guardrail abruptly disappeared. She shut down the car, leaving it in gear.

The only sounds were now the wind and the rumble of traffic driving by above them.

She drew the Mishkov and pointed it at the veep. “Get out.”

“But—”

“If you’re cooperative, we can get through this without any bloodshed.”

The veep spread his hands and let himself out of the back of the car. Evi followed, keeping the gun trained on him. With her left hand she reached into her pocket for a pair of handcuffs she’d liberated from Diana’s bedstand. It hurt her shoulder, but she wasn’t about to lower the gun.

She tossed the cuffs to the veep. “Cuff yourself to that.” She waved the gun at the scaffolding at the near edge of the hole in the side of the bridge.

The veep looked at the velvet-lined cuffs and arched an eyebrow.

“You’re right,” Evi said when he didn’t move immediately. “Maybe I should just shoot you.”

He moved, cuffing himself to the scaffolding. “What—”

Evi put the gun away and walked to the edge of the bridge where the guardwall should have been. She looked down over the East River. Then she walked over to the Mirador and picked up a loose steel reinforcing rod.

“What,” he repeated, “are you doing?”

“I’ll get to you in a moment,” Evi said as she slammed the windshield with the rod. She hit it a few times to clear out most of the glass. She did the same to the rear window.

She dropped the iron rod and turned to the veep. “Don’t want my trapped air keeping this thing afloat.”

She reached through the driver’s window and turned the wheel toward the hole in the side of the bridge.

“You’re not…” he said.

She pushed the Mirador toward the edge, until the front wheels left the pavement and hung over empty space. She looked down again; still no boat traffic.

She got behind the car and kicked it in the ass. There was a short scrape, and the rear end bounced a little. She kicked it again, and there was a longer scrape. The rear end bounced some more. This time the rear wheels came a centimeter off the ground.

She stood there and looked at the precariously balanced sedan. Then she looked at the veep, hooked her right hand under the bumper, and lifted. She rocked the car up to the point where the rear wheels were a meter off the ground, and gravity took over.

There was a sickening scrape as the chassis slid against the edge of the bridge. Then the rear wheels hit the edge and they rolled, silently pushing the car off.

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