Power Grab. Don Pendleton
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“All right.” Lyons nodded wearily.
Blancanales retrieved the chopper’s well-equipped first-aid kit and went to work. He started probing at Lyons’s chest. The big cop breathed in heavily but refused to give in to the pain any more than that.
“I don’t think your ribs are broken,” Blancanales said finally. “Although I couldn’t say why not, from what Gadgets says happened. All I remember is a sensation of flying, and then the wall and I got to know each other.”
“He wasn’t the most fun person you’ll ever meet,” Lyons said.
The chopper was headed east. Lyons could tell from the position of the sun. They spoke over the noise of the chopper as Grimaldi flew them. Lyons hoped there would be enough time. Whoever was in position in Albany, Karbuly Ghemenizov wouldn’t be there…but there was no point in searching the city of Syracuse for him. He wouldn’t be staying there, unless it was to plant more bombs, and if he did so, the Warlock network would find him.
Lyons hoped so.
“You’re looking pretty grim, Carl,” Schwarz said, less teasing now. “You all right?”
“I don’t like getting my ass kicked.”
“Did you see that guy?” Schwarz asked. “He could beat up a marching band and have energy left over for the color guard.”
“That has to be the strangest comparison I’ve ever heard.”
“Quiet,” Schwarz said. “Your brain is scrambled and you’re not in my right mind.”
“Gadgets?”
“Yes, Carl?”
“Shut up.”
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