BACKTRACKER Milo Fowler (book recommendations based on other books TXT) 📖

showering upward from the chrome bumper.

"Shoot him!" the driver yelled.

"I can't—" The passenger squirmed, trapped in his seat.

Peter cursed. He brought the sword's hilt against the windshieldonce, twice. The driver's unconscious groan answered on impact. Gradually thevehicle slowed, scraping, juddering, until it came to rest within a meter ofthe adjacent boulevard. The driver lay still and silent, out cold. Thepassenger continued to struggle.

"Where is he?" Peter demanded, peering in through thespider web patterns on the fractured windshield. The backseat lay empty.

The Blackshirt cursed him foully. Peter maintained eye contact ashe shoved on the glass with all his weight. A weak wheeze escaped theBlackshirt, like air squeaking from a balloon.

"Where is he?" Peter repeated the question, easing uponly slightly.

"Go to hell!" the Blackshirt gasped.

"Peter, are you all right?" Paul scurried out of theshadows with Mary ahead of him.

Peter nodded.

Mary crossed her arms and scowled. "You shouldn't have donethat. It wasn't safe. Father would never have allowed it."

Peter shrugged. Then he pointed with Cade's sword. "Lookinside."

Her angry look became one of dismay.

"Where is he?" She rushed to the rear door of thevehicle and tried it. Locked. She stared inside, her shoulders slumping."He's supposed to be here. Why isn't he?"

"Two cars," Paul mused. "Right?"

"That's what Father said." Mary turned her gaze to the pair ofBlackshirts in the front seats, one conscious, both immobilized.

"Cade's in the other car. Must've taken a different route totheir headquarters." Paul shook his head. "No chance of springing himfrom that joint. It's a fortress!"

"What then?" Mary snapped. "We let them havehim?"

Paul held up his wrinkled hands. "We did what we could. WhatFather told us to do, to the letter. Ain't our fault Cade's captors decided tobreak routine."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this." Mary shook her head,turned away to face Peter on the hood of the vehicle. "Well? Are you goingto give up too? Just pack up and go home?"

The squirming Blackshirt said, "You have assaulted two officers of the law. There'snowhere you can go that we won't find you."

"Spend much time Underground?" Peter arched an eyebrow.

The Blackshirt did not reply.

"Didn't think so." Peter brought the sword's hilt hardagainst the windshield, thumping against the man's skull. The squirmingstopped, and he slumped down in his seat, completely still.

"Why'd you do that?" Mary said. "He could have toldus where—"

"He wouldn't have told us anything." Peter rose to hisfeet, stretching his back with a wince until his vertebrae popped. "Hewould have died first, and I'm not in a killing mood." He leapt from thevehicle's hood, and his boots landed with a crunch in the gravel.

"So youare giving up."

Peter looked away, over his shoulder toward the boulevard as asolitary auto sped past, heading west. He tucked Cade's sword under his coat.

"Too bad we can't Link up," he muttered. "The cartransporting Cade may not have reached headquarters yet. It could still beintercepted—if we knew its current location."

"Father could have given us plugs." Paul sniffed,bobbing again in the cold. "But he chose not to. Why, do you think?"

"Illegal." Peter turned his gaze toward the interior ofthe Blackshirts' vehicle.

"That law only applies to SYNCorp's creations," Paulcountered. "Those cookie-cutter models aren't allowed to Link up, butwe—"

"We're no different." Peter narrowed his gaze at thecomputer console in the middle of the dashboard. "We have the samelifespan, expiration dates set in stone. All part of our makeup. We're nothuman."

Mary noticed where his attention was focused. "What are youlooking at?"

"We might not need the Link." He nodded to himself."This should do just fine."

Peter plowed his solid elbow through the passenger window,smashing the plastiglass, and pulled the manual release. The door driftedupward, and the unconscious Blackshirt tipped out sideways. Peter dragged himthe rest of the way, dropping him onto his face. Mary and Paul exchangedintrigued but confused looks.

"This should tell us their current location." Peterpushed one hand against the dislodged windshield, shoving it back into itsframe and holding it there. With his other hand, he moved to activate theconsole's touchscreen.

"Careful." Mary stepped forward. "It may notrecognize your prints. It could...shock you or something."

"I think I can handle it."

"No, it could be lethal." She took a moment to thinkthings through, and he waited, watching her over his shoulder as he leaned intothe vehicle. "Maybe—" She gestured at the hand of the unconsciousdriver. "Use his."

"Good thinking." He gave her a brotherly wink and seizedthe driver's hand, slapping it limply against the touchscreen.

The screen glowed to life. NEWCITY FEDERAL POLICE flashed once,followed by a menu with various options floating in a regular rotation.

"What are we looking for here?" Paul demanded.

Peter shook his head, at a loss. "I have no idea."

"Is there a log of some kind? Some way to track where they'vebeen, who they've been in contact with?" Mary frowned, unsure whether shewas making any sense.

"Maybe this one." Peter used the driver's index fingerto tap one of the menu options. A long list of contacts appeared. "Maybenot."

Paul sighed with impatience. "We're wasting time here."

"You're not helping." Mary's eyes were wide, hernostrils flared.

"Why do you care about him? It's not like Cade was everreally one of us."

"He is our brother, Paul." She clenched her teethto hold back sudden tears. "He is one of us!"

"Hey," Peter interrupted. He waited for his siblings togive him their undivided attention. "Take a look here." He swiped thedriver's finger down the contacts list, then upward. "They're arranged bytime index. The most recent calls at the top. This one—" He tapped thefinger against the screen. "It has to be the other car. Four calls betweenthem within the past half-hour."

"So what?" Paul snorted. "We call 'em and askwhere they're at? That would go over real well."

Mary gave him a withering look. "How recent is the call atthe top of the list?" she asked Peter.

He squinted at the minuscule details on the screen. "Lessthan five minutes ago."

"They're already at their headquarters by now." Paulturned away, uninterested. "This is pointless."

Mary thought for a moment. "We can't call them. They wouldn'trecognize our voiceprints," she mused aloud. Then her eyes brightened."The calls are probably recorded—they have to be, right? For securitypurposes?"

Peter shrugged. "Worth a try." He tapped