The Night Crew Read Free Page B

kept the address database. ‘‘C’mon, c’mon.’’
    ‘‘I’m getting it . . .’’
    ‘‘How’re we doing on the cops here?’’
    ‘‘You got a couple-three minutes, I just heard the call.’’
    ‘‘Get the address, Louis.’’
    ‘‘I’m hurrying.’’
    Anna turned to Creek: ‘‘Get ready to wrap it up.’’
    And to the kid, ‘‘Cops’ll be here to help, minute or two.’’
    Louis came back on the phone: ‘‘Jesus, Anna, it’s just down the street, we’re a half-mile out. And he’s still up there.’’
    Anna spoke into the mike, her voice urgent: ‘‘Jason, Creek. Back in the truck. Now! Kill the lights. Move it!’’
    ‘‘Hey, what, what?’’ Jason kept shooting.
    ‘‘Close down! Get in the truck. Now.’’
    Creek’s light went down and he was moving, no questions, but the Rat shouted at her, ‘‘Wait a minute, wait, what’re
. . . Hey, Anna, we didn’t talk.’’ And the Bee started toward her.
    Anna, the phone pressed to her ear, walking back toward the truck, fumbled a card out of her shirt pocket and thrust it back at the Rat: ‘‘Call me. We gotta go.’’
    Creek yelled at her: ‘‘What?’’
    ‘‘We got a jumper,’’ she shouted back. ‘‘Let’s go, Jason . . .’’
    They ran toward the truck: Louis had climbed into the driver’s seat and was backing off the sidewalk.
    As Anna and Creek came up, he jammed it into park and climbed over the seat into the back, as Jason came through the side. Creek slipped into the driver’s seat and Louis shouted, ‘‘Down Westwood, then left on Wilshire, it’s three blocks, it’s a place called the Shamrock.’’
    Creek: ‘‘I know the place: Jesus, it’s two minutes from here.’’
    ‘‘Gotta hustle,’’ Anna said. ‘‘Gotta hustle, gotta hustle.’’
    Creek spun the truck in a U-turn, paused at Le Conte long enough to make sure he wouldn’t hit anything, then swept through.
    ‘‘Louis, whatever happens with the jumper, this animal thing is an A-tape,’’ Anna said over her shoulder. ‘‘We want the bloody-nose kid to be a hero . . .’’
    Jason said, ‘‘That pig really pissed off the Rat, I think it’s heading for a barbeque.’’
    ‘‘I got a great shot of this little mouse, Louis, really cute,’’ Creek shouted over his shoulder.
    ‘‘Shut up, shut up,’’ Louis said to them all. He had an earphone clamped over one ear. Then, ‘‘The guy’s still out there. On a ledge. There’s hotel people talking to him. He’s from a party, high-school kids.’’
    Creek had the gas pedal on the floor and they just caught the light at Wilshire. As they swept through the intersection, Anna said to Jason, ‘‘Give yourself some space on your tape. You gotta be ready, but the first tape is good, too.’’
    ‘‘I’m ready,’’ Jason said.
    ‘‘Creek?’’
    Creek nodded. Creek was always ready.
    ‘‘Louis, talk to me,’’ Anna said.
    Louis’ eyes were closed, and he was leaning away from them, listening hard. ‘‘There’re cars on the way, we got maybe a minute by ourselves. Maybe two minutes.’’
    Anna said, ‘‘Where’s that Three truck? Weren’t they still out?’’
    ‘‘They were drifting down south after that chase,’’ Louis said. ‘‘They’re way the hell down by Huntington Beach. They’re out of it.’’
    Anna said, ‘‘Jason, I want you tight on the guy. Creek will pull back a bit, get the full jump, if he goes. But I wanna see his face . . .’’
    ‘‘You got it, sugarbun,’’ Jason said.
    Creek showed his teeth: ‘‘Sugarbun?’’
    Jason grinned at him: ‘‘Me’n Anna getting intimate.’’
    ‘‘Yeah?’’ Creek glanced at Anna, who rolled her eyes.
    ‘‘Me’n Anna doing the thing,’’ Jason said. He was almost talking to himself, looked as though he might giggle. He was wound, his eyes big: He liked the movement, maybe too much. He was talented: might go big in Hollywood someday, Anna thought, if he didn’t blow his brains out