Chapter 4 - The Ransom of the Will
My blood turned to ice as the taxi sped past the glowing streetlights of the city center.
I pulled Lucas tightly against my chest, shielding his body with my own.
"Hand over the document you took from the mansion, and I might let you and the kid walk away," the driver demanded without turning around.
I noticed his hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly, and there was no visible weapon on the front seat.
My mind raced back to the heavy metal flashlight I had packed at the bottom of my duffel bag for emergencies.
I unzipped the bag as quietly as I could under the cover of the roaring engine.
My fingers wrapped around the cold, heavy steel of the flashlight handle.
"I don't have it on me," I lied, raising my voice to distract him.
When he glanced at the rearview mirror to call my bluff, I swung the heavy flashlight forward with every ounce of strength I had left.
The metal struck him hard on the shoulder and the side of his neck.
The driver cried out in pain, dropping his hands from the steering wheel.
The taxi swerved wildly across the wet asphalt, jumping the curb and crashing violently into a row of metal trash cans.
The airbags deployed instantly, filling the front cabin with thick white powder.
I scrambled to manually unlock the back doors before the driver could recover his senses.
I pushed the door open, grabbed Lucas by the waist, and pulled him out into the freezing rain.
We ran down the sidewalk as fast as our legs could carry us, slipping into the entrance of a crowded, brightly lit subway station.
I thought the massive crowd of late-night commuters would keep us safe.
Then I looked up at the digital news monitors hanging from the station ceiling.
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My own face was plastered across every screen, accompanied by a breaking news headline.
The broadcast labeled me as a dangerous and unstable fugitive, wanted by the police for the fatal poisoning of Mr. Christopher.
