He hesitated. "What about the kid?"
"We'll watch him! You'd better hurry!"
He headed for the administration building at a lumbering trot.
We waved wildly to Freddie. He pounced, with uncontrollable joy, on the door release. Celia plunged into the car, and then I. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that the policeman had stopped. He was viewing us with uncertainty. Then he yelled and started to run toward us, unlimbering his gun from its holster.
My trembling fingers fitted the key into the ignition. I heard a shot and a thudding sound. Then another, and a hole appeared in my side and front windows. I gunned our car like fury and we rocketed into the air so fast that Celia, holding Freddie tightly in her arms, moaned at the terrible acceleration.
We were far above Chicago's islands. Nothing, not even a police car, could catch our Cad Super.
I turned to my son. "You're a bright boy, Freddie. I'm proud of you." A real competitor at heart.