Wallis sighs and stares at the floor. I feel sorry for him. He didn’t ask to get caught up in any of this, and he’s been doing his best to stay alive while watching my back — something that, at the moment, isn’t easy for anyone.
“Ah, shit…” says Freeman.
“What?”
“We’ve got company. Lots of it.”
I frown and look over my shoulder out the rear window. There are three black SUVs spread across the three lanes of the expressway following us.
The CIA couldn’t be more conspicuous if they painted their standard-issue vehicles bright yellow and put a Playboy bunny on the roof holding a sign saying Agents On Board.
I remember the good ol’ days when you never knew they were there. Old school spies and black ops units who appeared like ghosts a second before they took you. Nowadays, they shout it from the rooftops and take out ads in the fucking newspaper… And don’t get me wrong… it’s not because of a decline in quality — it’s simply that they don’t give a shit. Cunningham rules the world. Why should anyone who works for him care about the consequences of their actions anymore? It’s not like anyone’s going to reprimand them, is it?
This is bad. Really bad. I glance quickly at Wallis and Freeman in turn — both of whom look worried. And justifiably so.
I need a plan…
I could — no… that wouldn’t work.
There’s always — no… damn it, that wouldn’t work, either.
Ah, I’ve got one!
Well, that was quick, even by my standards.
But… wait — no, I can’t. Can I? There must be another way…
Shit.
There isn’t another way.
Oh, man, this is going to suck.
Not for me, obviously.
For these two.
I look at Wallis. “Do you trust me?”
He frowns. “I don’t like it when you ask me things like that… ”
I smile momentarily. “I’ve got a plan that means we all get out of this. But you’re not going to like it.”
“What is it?” asks Freeman.
“Oh, you’re definitely not gonna like it! But there’s no other way. And no time to argue. Do you both trust me?”
Freeman looks at Wallis in the rearview, and they both nod to each other.
“Do what you need to,” says Wallis. “If the CIA stops us now, we’re all dead.”
I nod. “My thoughts exactly. Okay… give me your gun, Tom.”
He hesitates.
“Come on,” I urge. “Time’s a-wastin’ here.”
He sighs and pulls his FBI-issue Glock 22 handgun from his shoulder holster and holds it out to me. I glance quickly over my shoulder again to size up the SUVs. They’re closing fast. I can just make out the facial features of the driver on our tail, which means he should be able to see me as well.
I need to make sure he sees everything…
I look at Wallis and smile apologetically. “You’re a good man, Tom. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”
He frowns. “I don’t underst—”
I grab the gun with my left hand, raise my right elbow, and lunge sideways into him, connecting with his jaw. I hit him where his mandible meets his ear, and he slams against the side of the car, slumping unconscious in his seat.
I face the front, carefully positioning the gun against the back of the driver’s seat.
“What the fuck are you doing?” yells Freeman.
I lean forward. “Sorry, David. I think you’re a dick, don’t get me wrong, but you don’t deserve this. It’s… it’s the only way…”
I fire once, the gunshot muffled by the back of the seat. The bullet hits him exactly where I intended — the right side of his waist, through and through. It’s a fairly shallow flesh wound that avoids anything major. It’ll bleed like Niagara Falls and hurt like hell, but he’ll be fine.
He falls forward, hitting the wheel with his forehead, which causes the car to swerve to the right. I put my hand against the headrest and push myself back in my seat, bracing for the inevitable impact.
This was a stupid idea…
17
The car slides across the outside lane, narrowly missing the oncoming SUV. We do a complete three-sixty, slamming side-on into the grass verge that runs alongside the expressway. My attempt at bracing counts for nothing. I’m thrown sideways and land on Wallis, who in turn is crushed against the door on the right side.
Ah!
My head bounces off the window, jolting my neck. I can feel a trickle of blood making its way down the side of my face. I sit back for a moment and try to relax my body. I glance forward, feeling a little dazed. Freeman is slumped over the wheel. I can see he’s breathing. Through the windshield I see the three black SUVs slamming on their brakes up ahead, ignoring the traffic and desperately trying to turn around safely, to come back and claim their prize.
Exactly like I want them to.
I look down and check the mag of Wallis’ Glock. Minus the round I put in Freeman, there are thirteen loaded with one in the chamber, safety on. I slide across the seat, put a hand on the door, and check through the rearview to make sure I’m clear. The road behind me is practically empty. I guess my friends from the CIA have already blocked the road — I’m sure people will be thrilled by that!
I open the door, climb out, and stretch quickly before shaking my head to clear it. I glance back over my shoulder at the unconscious Wallis sprawled on the back seat. I feel bad for him. Freeman I can take or leave, but Wallis has always been good to me. I wish I had another option right now.
I walk slowly into the middle of the road and face the three oncoming vehicles. The sun is tucked away behind some light clouds, and there’s a strong breeze blowing across from the east. I relax, standing casually with my arms by my sides. I grip the Glock tightly in my hand.
I’m not entirely sure how to go about this. I guess I’ll just have to play it by ear. But whatever happens, there’s no way I’m leaving here with them.
The vehicle on my right slows as it gets within a few hundred yards of me. The one in the middle follows suit, but the one on the left maintains its speed. It must be intending to go past and stop behind me…
No chance.
I whip my arm up, turn my body slightly, and fire once at the front tire of the vehicle. The sound of the bullet is partially drowned out by both the noise of the traffic on the other side of the expressway and the wind. But it’s still loud.
It finds its mark, as I knew it would. The SUV’s probably doing forty-five, maybe fifty. The front left side drops sharply as the tire disintegrates, and the back swings out. The driver struggles to retain control. I stand my ground, holding my breath as the vehicle goes flying past inches away from me. It turns side-on, the remaining tires screeching loudly and throwing up smoke. I turn slightly and watch as it—
Holy shit! It’s just flipped into the air!
It crashes down heavily on its roof and slides farther away from me.
I can’t pass up this chance…
I widen my stance, tense my body, and steady myself as I take aim, both hands on the gun. I take a deep breath and quickly drown out my surroundings until all I’m aware of is my target. I’m aiming for the gas tank…
I line up my shot and fire three rounds in quick succession.
There’s a deafening blast and a rush of air as the vehicle goes up in flames, the force of the explosion lifting it off the ground once more. It lands, and I hear the exposed framework creak over the crackling of the deadly flames engulfing the metal carcass, like a starving man would attack a buffet line.
I allow myself a split-second of celebration for having just improved my odds of getting out of this in one piece before I spin around to face the remaining SUVs, which are stopping at an angle probably twenty feet in front of me, nose to nose.