“We’ll never make it!” Sandy gasped.
Ken’s eyes caught a flash of light on the opposite side of the street. He turned his head toward it without breaking his stride. “Look!”
A taxi was entering South Street from the cross street just ahead and slowing to a stop at the corner. As the two sailors in the back seat climbed out, Ken and Sandy were already tearing across toward it. Barrack’s headlights were close enough to outline them clearly.
“Hey!” Sandy yelled as they ran. “Cab!”
The driver waved a casual hand to let them know he saw them coming.
Ken tumbled inside just as Barrack’s car shot past. Sandy piled in on top of him. The driver, only mildly surprised at their haste, said, “In a hurry, huh?”
Ken watched Barrack brake to a stop just ahead of the taxi.
“Not particularly—not any more,” Ken managed to answer. “Take us uptown to Radio City, please.”
The cab swung in a wide U turn and headed north. Ken and Sandy slumped wearily back on the seat. For a moment they had all they could do to catch their breath.
“We messed that up for fair,” Sandy said finally, still gulping for air.