ANCE LOOKED IN the rearview mirror. An SUV, black, big, and gaining on them way too fast. It looked like a bulky jet barreling down the runway just prior to liftoff.

She punched the gas and the Beemer leapt forward.

“Wait a minute,” she exclaimed. “Do you think they’re cops or Feds?”

The shot shattered the Beemer’s rear glass. Julie shrieked and ducked down as the bullet passed between Vance and Robie and cracked the windshield.

“No,” said Robie tersely. “I don’t think they’re cops or Feds.”

Vance cut the wheel to the left and screeched the Beemer into a ninety-degree turn, racing down a side street.

“Well then do something!” she snapped.

He turned, looked at Julie, who was hunkered down in the seat. “Undo your seat belt and get on the floorboard,” he said.

“What if the car wrecks and I don’t have a belt on?” she said.

“I think that’ll be the least of your worries.”

Julie undid her belt and dropped into the space between the front and rear seats.

Robie took aim with his Glock and fired once through the shattered back window. His shot hit the front of the SUV. Robie had aimed to take out the radiator. His shot had hit dead center. He could hear the round ping off.

“Armored,” he said to Vance.

He fired next into the left front tire. The rubber should have shredded. It didn’t.

“Run-flat tires,” said Robie. “Cute. Really cute.”

“If they’re armored we should be able to outrun them,” said Vance.

“Depends on what kind of horsepower they’ve got.”

He fired again, at the windshield. It cracked part of the glass, but the SUV did not slow down.

“Well, at least they’re not perfect,” said Robie.

He saw the gun appear from the passenger-side window. Robie observed instantly that it wasn’t just any gun. If it hit them it would be over.

He grabbed the wheel from Vance and slammed the car into a hard right turn that took it off the road, over the curb, and into someone’s front yard.

A split second later the gun pointing from the SUV roared a dozen automatic times. The rounds missed the Beemer, but behind them the car that was parked nearest the intersection exploded.

The SUV couldn’t make the turn and continued to speed down the road. Then came the screech of brakes and gears reversing.

Robie worked the wheel and the Beemer jumped the curb and landed back on the road. He took his hands off the steering wheel and looked back.

“What the hell was that?” demanded a shaky-looking Vance.

“It’s called a Sledgehammer,” said Robie. “Assault combat shotgun. I recognized it from the big ammo drum. It must’ve ignited the fuel tank on that car back there.”

He pointed up ahead. “Take the next left and then a right and then hit the gas hard. By the time they get back on our tail we’ll be gone.”

Vance did as he instructed and they were soon alone on a road leading west away from all the shooting. They could hear sirens seemingly coming from all directions.

Julie sat up and buckled her seat belt after wiping shards of automobile glass off the seat and out of her hair.

Robie glanced at her. “You okay?”

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

He looked around. “You left your backpack at the safe house?”

She nodded again.

Vance said, “What changed, Robie?”

He looked at her after easing his gun back into its holster.

“Come again?” he said.

“They didn’t want to kill us before, just scare the shit out of us or intimidate us or who the hell knows what. But now it seems pretty clear they want us gone. So what changed?”

“Could be lots of things,” he answered. “Without knowing the endgame it’s hard to know what makes these folks tick. Or what part any of us play in all of it.”

“So we need to figure out the endgame,” said Vance.

“Easier said than done,” replied Julie.

“What changed?” This time the query came from Robie.

Vance and Julie looked at him. “That’s what I just said,” replied Vance.

He didn’t answer. He just stared straight ahead.

He would’ve smiled, only he didn’t because it might lead to nothing.

But finally, finally Robie might have something.