Deadly Heat

The sergeant at the wheel knew which back streets had been cleared as

emergency lanes, so he and Nikki flew until they got to the entrance of Battery

Park. A band of protestors locked arms and blocked the car, laughing and hurling

insults. Heat bolted out and ran, leaving the door open as she wove through the

crowd.

Rainbow clucked to get the horse moving so he could catch up with the marchers. He

twisted in the coachman’s seat to do a shoulder-check for Rook, and was surprised

when he couldn’t locate him back near the white tent. Then the carriage jolted and

the suspension iron groaned under a sudden weight. Windsor pivoted more. As the

wagon rolled across the meadow, he peered around the copper boiler full of virus

behind his seat, and saw a hand come up over the boot. Then he glimpsed Jameson

Rook, hoisting himself up on the back of the carriage and crawling toward him.

He jerked the reins and pulled the brake handle, trying to lurch Rook off with a

sudden stop. But it only thrust him closer to Windsor as he held on. Then Rainbow

went to the whip, and Rook almost fell backward as the horse reacted and yanked the

fire wagon forward toward the great lawn, scattering panicked stragglers as it

thundered ahead.

The wide belly of the boiler presented the greatest obstacle. As the carriage

bounced and swayed, Rook had to climb slightly outboard to get around it. At his

most vulnerable spot, Windsor lashed him with the whip. But Rook grabbed it on one

of his wild thrashes, pulling it away.

Galloping across the pasture, closing in on the rear field of marchers, Windsor

reached for an orange electrical cable draped over the dash rail in front of him.

Rook’s heart sank when he saw the grip device dangling at the end of it. He knew

that would be The Switch: the release button for the spray. He visually traced the

wire to where it came out of the seat back and snaked up between the copper steam

tubing to the valves on the boiler vat, then to the modern set of plastic aerosol

nozzles beside his head on the chimney.

Rook yanked at it. The cord wouldn’t budge from the mechanism.

He glanced up front. Windsor had hold of the cable. The switch was nearly in his

hand.

Nikki Heat fought her way out of the back of the crowd, drew her Sig, planted her

left knee on the grass, and combat-braced on her right, drawing aim at the fire

wagon charging toward her. She had to be careful not to hit the horse. The animal

was not only an innocent, but if it dropped, it could topple the carriage and spill

the virus. The same caution held for the vat. She had to wait for an angle of fire

that wouldn’t risk puncturing the copper boiler if she missed Windsor or if the

slug went through him.

She saw him going for the switch on the orange cable and wondered if she should just

take the shot. That’s when Rook pounced on top of Windsor and clawed over his

shoulders for the button. Heat holstered up and sprinted for the carriage.