my

to skid to a stop just feet away. Harris turned right, finally traveling with the traffic.
There was the sound of an impact behind him, followed by a metallic crunch. Harris looked in the rearview mirror—to no avail; it was shattered, pieces of glass still falling from the frame. He glanced over his shoulder.
The pursuing car straddled the median. It was motion­less, pinned between the two trees Harris had cleared.

“And then you returned to the Monarch Building?” Doc persisted.
“No, I went back and got our blue jeans.”
“That would seem to be a foolish choice.”
“Damned right it was. But I was mad.” He shrugged. “After that I did come right back. You should have seen Fergus’ face when I drove in and he saw what had happened to the Hutchen.”
“And what about you, Harris?” Doc peered over Harris’ shoulder. “How is he, Alastair?”
Harris winced as he felt the doctor’s tweezers tug at his bare back again.
“Not bad,” Alastair said. “A few pieces of shrapnel that probably used to be car door. Nothing serious.”
Harris glanced again at the faces around him. Doc looked thoughtful. Jean-Pierre was frowning. Gaby was worried. Noriko’s expression was, as usual, serene, but Harris thought he saw tension in her pose. And Joseph, standing near the door, arms folded, looked just plain mad.
Harris’ attention was drawn to a jar on the nearest laboratory table. The jar held a brain and eye-stalks floating in what looked like red jelly, and he had the sudden disconcerting feeling that the eyes were looking at him. As soon as he glanced at them, the eyes looked away. He shuddered.
“Anyway,” Harris continued, “my guess is that they were just getting ready to shoot me when I accidentally sideswiped them. I figure that the impact made the first guy drop his gun. I think maybe I was saved by my bad driving.”
Jean-Pierre asked, “Did you ever return fire?”
“Nope.”
“Did you drive past the car once it was stopped to see what condition the gunmen were in?”
“No.”
“Did you contact the Novimagos Guard?”
Harris shook his head, impatient. “That’s what I’m doing now, right? What are you getting at?”
Doc interrupted: “Who knew you were going out?”
Harris thought it over. “Jean-Pierre and Joseph. And Fergus.”
“And who knew you were