“Don’t tell me I’m not in control,” he said.

Jack felt blood oozing down the side of his face. He could hear the paranoia in Falcon’s voice, feel the desperation in the air. The situation was only getting worse, and he had to do something fast. Just ahead, the traffic light changed from green to amber. Jack noticed a squad car at the cross street, waiting for a green light. On impulse, Jack hit the gas, knowing that he couldn’t possibly make the light. The squad car was already in the intersection as Jack sailed past at nearly double the speed limit. Jack’s light could not have been redder.

Blue flashing lights swirled behind them as the squad car screeched onto the boulevard and gave chase.

“You did that on purpose!” said Falcon.

Jack heard a click behind his ear-the hammer cocking?

“Outrun him,” said Falcon. Jack didn’t react fast enough. Falcon pushed the gun even harder against his head. “Floor it, or I’ll kill you!”

Jack hit the accelerator, and the car lurched forward. The squad car was a half-block behind them and in hot pursuit, siren blaring. The engine growled, and the speedometer dipped beyond seventy miles per hour.

“Jack, spin it!” said Theo.

“Faster!” said Falcon.

“Spin it!”

Jack hit the brake and jerked the steering wheel hard left, then hard right, trying to pull one of those smooth sliding maneuvers that professional drivers do on television commercials. It wasn’t so easy. The car was skidding out of control as Theo lunged across the console. Jack felt the tip of the barrel slide across his head as Theo and Falcon struggled for the weapon. There was a deafening noise-it was like shooting off a cannon inside a cave-and the sunroof exploded. Pellets of shattered glass rained down all over them. The pain reached deep into Jack’s ears. Theo was shouting, and the tires were screeching like banshees, but it suddenly felt as if he were two hundred feet underwater-tons of pressure in the ears and no sound whatever. Then the ringing started, and with Theo and Falcon still going at each other, it was impossible for Jack to stop the car from careening across the boulevard. He wasn’t even sure who had the gun anymore.

“Theo!” Jack shouted, though he could barely hear his own voice.

Rubber burned against the pavement as the car cut across three lanes of oncoming traffic. Horns blasted, vehicles swerved out of the way, and the bright white beams from several pairs of headlamps shot in every direction. Jack’s car slammed into the curb, but the vehicle was going plenty fast to jump right over it. It was like a big speed bump on a NASCAR track. The car was airborne for an instant and came down hard on an asphalt parking lot. Jack managed to catch a glimpse of a neon sign that read VACANCY, as the car barreled into the Biscayne Motor Lodge. It scored a direct hit on room 102. All of the rooms had outdoor entrances that faced the parking lot, and the external walls were the flimsy, prefabricated aluminum-and-fiberglass packages typical of motor lodges-a door, a picture window, and a climate-control unit all in one piece. It was like driving into a one-car garage without bothering to open the garage door. Both the driver’s and passenger’s airbag exploded. The car leveled everything in its path, like a high-speed bulldozer, shoving lamps and dressers and two double beds against the back wall of the hotel room. The mountain of debris had acted like a giant cushion, not exactly a soft landing but better than crashing into a concrete pillar. The airbags had saved their lives.

It took a moment for Jack to regain his bearings and realize that they had indeed come to a complete stop. The room looked as if a bomb had detonated. It was almost completely dark, brightened only by the streetlights that shined through a gaping hole that was once the front of the hotel room. The ceiling had partially collapsed into a cloud of dust. Electrical wiring, twisted water pipes, broken furniture, chunks of drywall, and other debris were strewn everywhere. Jack refocused just in time to hear the squad car squealing into the parking lot. The blaring siren drowned out all sounds-except for the gunshots. Falcon was shooting at the cops as he crawled out of the car through the shattered rear window. Jack wasn’t sure if it was a different gun or the same one that Theo had tried to wrest away from him. The officers scrambled for cover and returned the fire. Jack ducked down in the front seat and told Theo to do the same.

There was another exchange of gunfire, and the nine-millimeter slugs fired by the police made a popping sound as they hit the interior walls of the demolished hotel room. The wrecked automobile was suddenly bathed in white light. The police had switched on the spotlight that was fastened to the squad car. Another shot rang out, and the light was history. Falcon had nailed it with one shot from a distance of at least a hundred feet. The police returned fire.

Theo quickly glanced at Jack, making just enough eye contact to convey the understandable fears of a man who had spent four years on death row for a crime he didn’t commit. They were sitting ducks in the car, and Theo’s expression said it all: No way was he going to hang around and hope that a pair of white cops would peg the big black guy for an innocent victim. Before Jack could even try to stop him, Theo was sliding through the shattered windshield, determined to find a better hiding spot while the spotlight was dead.

Another crack of gunshot drew Jack’s attention back to the parking lot. He saw an officer fall to the pavement. The other went to his aid. Another shot echoed from somewhere within the mountain of debris, and the second cop went down equally hard. Jack couldn’t see Falcon, but wherever he was-whoever he was-he was one crackerjack marksman.

The downed officers didn’t flinch, didn’t make a sound. Sirens blared in the distance, signaling that law-enforcement backup was on the way. Jack spotted a fast-moving shadow on the wall, on the opposite side of his car. It was Falcon. He was trying to escape, but he was on the wrong side of the car. There was too much clutter to get out that way, no way to reach the parking lot, unless he climbed over to the driver’s side.

“Run for it!” shouted Theo.

Jack sprang from his hiding spot behind the front seat and moved quickly over the mound of clutter. On the other side of the car was Falcon, but he had no apparent interest in Jack. His focus was on the only way out-a side door that, presumably, led to an adjoining room. With a single shot, he destroyed the lock. Jack heard him force the door open, and a woman screamed. Someone was in the adjacent room-the one Falcon had just entered.

“Theo!” Jack shouted, but he was too late.

Theo had heard it, too, and he was already up and over the car, chasing after Falcon, answering the woman’s scream.

Before tearing after him, Jack spotted a weapon on the ground, beside one of the fallen officers. He went for it.

“Freeze!” the other officer shouted. His left shoulder and neck were covered with blood. He was wobbling, unable to stand but trying to stay centered with his weight on one knee.

“I need your help,” said Jack. “My friend is-”

“I said freeze!”

“But listen to me, please.”

“Facedown, on the ground, now!”

The gun was aimed straight at Jack’s heart, giving him no choice but to comply. As he did, another scream emerged from somewhere behind the closed door of the motel room. A single gunshot followed-then silence. Jack lowered his forehead to the pavement and closed his eyes. The shattered searchlight and two wounded cops quickly flashed in his mind. Falcon had yet to miss a target all night.

And Theo Knight was one big target.