The Extraordinary Adventures of Alfred Kropp (Alfred Kropp #1)(37)

“Most likely the border has been closed.”

“What’ll we do?”

“We have no choice. We must cross.”

I pictured us flying through the barricades at 110 with the Royal Mounted Police racing after us. Right as I was picturing this, the first set of blue-and-reds shot out of the dark behind us. Soon there were three or four sets of them and I could hear the sirens from inside the car. Bennacio responded by speeding up, the needle hovering around 120. We roared past an electronic sign that was flashing: “Border Closed.”

“Look, this is bad, Bennacio,” I told him. “We gotta ditch the Jag and find a place to cross on foot.” It wasn’t the brightest suggestion, given we were being chased by half the patrol cars in Maine.

Bennacio didn’t answer. He kept our speed up until he saw the battalion of National Guardsmen with their assault rifles manning the crossing. The first line of soldiers had already gone to its knees and had taken aim at us.

He slammed on the brakes and we skidded about fifty feet to a stop. Then he said, “Get out of the car, Alfred. Make sure they can see your hands.”

I stepped out of the patrol car, my hands in the air, as somebody screamed into a bullhorn, “STEP OUT OF THE CAR—NOW! KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!”

Behind us the cop cars rolled in, lights blazing, and a dozen brown uniforms took positions behind their open doors. I wondered how Bennacio was going to get out of this one.

“ON YOUR STOMACH WITH YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEAD, FINGERS LACED!”

Bennacio nodded to me and we lay on the ground, side by side. These last few feet of America were very cold. Somebody came and stood right over us, and I could see my reflection in the bright finish of his black shoe.

“Hi. This is the point where I ask what your business in Canada is tonight,” the wearer of the shiny shoe said.

“There is a card in my jacket pocket,” Bennacio said. “Before you do anything rash, I suggest you contact the person on that card.”

I couldn’t see if Mr. Shiny Shoes got the card or not, but he walked away and was gone for some time.

“What’s going on, Bennacio?” I whispered.

“I am calling in a favor.”

“I’m cold,” I said. Bennacio didn’t say anything.

Somebody grabbed me by the collar and hauled me up. A guy in a blue Windbreaker, the owner of the polished shoes, handed Bennacio the card and said, “This is your lucky day.”

“It isn’t luck,” Bennacio answered. “It is necessity.”

We climbed back into the Jag. The guy in the blue Windbreaker and the very nicely shined shoes waved to the border guard. He hit the code to open the gate. The guy in the Windbreaker stepped back and waved us through.

“Good luck!” he called, as we roared through the gate into Canada.

“Necessity,” Bennacio muttered.

26

I had never been to Canada, but I didn’t see much of it because it was dark and Bennacio took secondary two-lane roads. He drove through the night like the hounds of hell were after us. I knew Halifax was on the coast and probably he had a plane waiting there for him, but what good would it do if all flights were grounded? I tried to sleep, but you try sleeping in a Jaguar going 120 miles an hour in a strange country.

We crossed a long bridge at three a.m. and Bennacio told me we were in Nova Scotia. We may as well have been on the dark side of the moon for all I could tell. We drove in silence until a faint orange glow appeared on the horizon. At first I thought it was the sun rising, then remembered it was three a.m.

“We may be too late,” Bennacio said.

He slowed down to a leisurely eighty and, coming up on a huge fire, I saw we were at a private airstrip. There was some kind of wreckage burning on the runway.

Bennacio pulled into an access road that led directly to the airstrip. Three guys were standing at the end of it, next to a tan Chevy Suburban, wearing long brown robes like the one Bennacio wore the first time we met.

“I thought you were the last knight,” I said.

“I am,” he said. “And I believe I have told you, Alfred, that the Sword has many friends.”

He stopped the car and we got out. A light, freezing rain was falling. I could hear the ocean and taste the salt on my tongue. Bennacio left the headlights on and we gathered in front of the car. The air seemed to sparkle as the light danced in the tiny droplets of rain.

One of the guys came toward Bennacio. They kissed each other on both cheeks, and then the guy gave him a big hug and looked at me.

“Cabiri, this is Kropp,” Bennacio said.

“He is a Friend?” Cabiri asked, studying me.

“A Friend and a Wielder.”

“Indeed! Then he is my friend,” Cabiri said, and he kissed both my cheeks and wrapped me in the same tight bear hug.

He turned to Bennacio. “We had a little trouble, as you can see.” He nodded toward the burning wreckage. “They came on foot, apparently, and that took us by surprise. We expected an aerial assault. They used this.”

He nodded to one of the guys standing behind him. He was toting what looked like an oversized bazooka, but I figured it was probably a rocket launcher.

“Derieux?” Bennacio asked.

“He was inside the plane, Lord Bennacio.”

Bennacio closed his eyes. I saw the other two brown-robed guys staring at me and I looked away.