The other cop threw himself down on top of Pete. The taxi driver was caught by the tail end of the burst. The shock of the bullets smashing into him lifted him out of the cab and flung him on the sidewalk.
The crowd on the street broke and ran in all directions, yelling and screaming. Several of them were caught by the burst and lay in huddled heaps on the sidewalk and the street.
The black car swept on and disappeared around the corner. The big cop covering Pete got unsteadily to his feet.
“The bastards!” he said through clenched teeth. “The goddamn bastards!”
He dragged Pete out of the cab.
“Come on, you!” he snarled, and ran Pete across the sidewalk into the sheltering porch of a store. He wedged Pete into a corner between two plateglass windows and stood in front of him, gun in hand.
“Get me inside!” Pete shouted excitedly. “You goddamn fool! Do you imagine glass’ll stop bullets?”
“Shut your trap!” the cop snarled. “There ain’t going to be no bullets.”
Even as he spoke the black car made its second run. The crowds on the street, seeing it coming, flattened on the sidewalks or dashed madly into the shops and stores for shelter.
Cars, swerving to avoid the black car that came straight down the middle of the street, mounted the kerbs. One car crashed through a plate-glass window.