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RBB [voiceover]: Ivan and I kept running, trying to keep Hairhead in view, but it became increasingly difficult. We were moving against the crush of pedestrian traffic; never mind what people tell you about how polite Canadians are -- they don't like being elbowed out of the way by a hulking Russian waving a large-caliber Tokarev. And, honestly, I couldn't blame them.
Finally, a gigantic Vancouverite who obviously had been cut from his local pub's rubgy team and still resented it coldcocked Ivan and sent him flying into the road, in the path of an oncoming taxicab. Brakes squealed as the driver fought to maintain his control, while Ivan struggled to get to his feet. The cab stopped inches from the Russian, and the driver made a mistake.
ALAN_SMITHEE: Watch where you're going, you great ugly heap of parrot droppings! You're not fit to wipe Ayn Rand's backside!
RBB [voicover]: Ivan's jaw clenched and I could tell that something stupid and unnecessary was about to happen. He lifed his Tokarev and, before I could reach him, fired three shots at nearly point-blank range. The driver took two shots in the chest and a third in the gut. He spun with a choked scream and hit the ground. Immediately, cursing under my breath, I ran over and knelt by him.
ALAN_SMITHEE: He ... ruined ... my ... Adam Smith T-shirt.
RBB: Hold on, pal; he ruined a lot more than that.
ALAN_SMITHEE: Too late ... I'm a goner ... besides, I'd rather die than use socialized medicine ...
RBB [voiceover]: He slumped and died. I cursed in a low, vicious voice, and then I straightened and strode over to Ivan, who was coolly about to appropriate the man's taxicab. I grabbed his coat and slammed him against the cab till his teeth rattled.
RBB: Now you listen to me, you imbecile. You've just got yourself, and probably me, in ten tons of elephant-shit trouble for no fucking reason. You and I are getting out of here, now, and trying to find my friends, and meanwhile you will explain to me just why you thought that was such a brilliant fucking idea.
IVAN: You are pleased to take me to task, but you were not noticing a key fact about cabdriver.
RBB; What's that?
IVAN: Look at dashboard.
RBB [voiceover]: I looked and gulped in amazement. Resting on the dashboard was a MAC-10.
IVAN: Driver was about to spray us both while distracting you with insults aimed at me.
RBB: But the police won't believe it.
IVAN: We are leaving ... now.
[to be continued]
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