As he had staggered up the hill with a sharp pain in his left leg, Pitt had seen no other options. The gravel truck had been parked too close to the earthmover to maneuver around it, leaving the yellow mover his only option. The construction workers in this quiet town hadn’t bothered to lock either vehicle. Pitt climbed behind the controls, looked down the hill, and saw the headlights of the fleeing car already skirting the naval center. In seconds, it would pass directly below him.
Pitt depressed the clutch and slapped the gearshift lever into neutral, releasing the parking brake with his other hand. The big machine lurched forward downhill, prompting Pitt to tap the unassisted brakes. He gripped the rubberized steering wheel and tested the play. The well-used earthmover didn’t have a locking steering column, so Pitt had some maneuverability as long as he could muscle the wheel.
Glancing again down the hill, he saw the car emerge from the trees a short distance away. He had no time to waste.
Releasing the brake pedal, he let the earthmover roll forward a few feet to gain momentum, then bulled the steering wheel sharply to his right. The two front wheels turned easily, slicing through the earth at the foot of the hillside. The big steel blade scraped into the berm, slowing the mover momentarily before lurching ahead.
The ungainly machine nearly jackknifed as it tumbled over the ledge, managing to right itself with a heavy bounce. The steep hill dropped almost fifty feet, causing the mover to accelerate quickly. Pitt straightened the wheels, hoping to keep it upright. The glare of oncoming headlights filled his right windshield.
Had the car’s driver not been speeding, he might have been able to brake to a stop ahead of the runaway earthmover. But his rate of speed, combined with the shock of seeing the big piece of construction equipment bounding down the hill, caused him to overreact. Rather than brake first, he instinctively flicked the steering wheel to the side to escape the mover. He then stood on the brakes.
It was the worst choice. The car skidded twenty feet before the right front fender slammed into a telephone pole. Sitting unbuckled in the passenger seat, the man who had played guard in Heiland’s house flew into the windshield. His neck snapped, and he died instantly.
The driver suffered only a crushed leg, but his reprieve was temporary. He looked up over a now deflating air bag to see the charging yellow monster only inches away.
The prow of the earthmover struck the driver’s door square, knocking the car clear of the telephone pole and driving it sideways. Pitt dropped the mover’s steel blade, slowing the mover as a shower of sparks erupted from the asphalt. It was just enough to halt the momentum of both vehicles. When the passenger side of the car smacked against the Navy Lab’s fence, both jarred to a halt.
Ann was already hobbling toward the scene, followed by a siren-blaring security car racing through the lab’s main gate. She made her way alongside the earthmover as Pitt climbed out of the cab. His left leg was bloody, and he looked pale.
“Your leg,” she said. “Are you all right?”
“It’s not serious,” he said, moving gingerly.
They walked to the mangled car and peered inside. The body of the driver was flung forward, his eyes locked in a lifeless gaze. His bloodied partner, equally frozen in death, sprawled across the passenger-side dashboard.
“You cut them off, all right,” Ann whispered. She took a closer look at their features, noticing details that had gone unseen in the darkness of Heiland’s lab. “Associates of our friends in Tijuana?”
“They might have accessed Heiland’s office in Del Mar and tracked down his cabin here,” Pitt said. He looked again at the gruesome scene in the car as the Navy security car pulled up. “I hope it was worth it.”
Ann limped to the rear of the car and pried open the crash-damaged trunk. Inside was the bin containing Heiland’s documents. She gazed at Pitt with look of grim satisfaction.
“It was.”
PART II
RARE EARTH
26
THE GULFSTREAM’S WHEELS TOUCHED DOWN WITH a thump, jarring Ann awake. The excitement of the past few days had finally caught up with her, and she had slept since the plane left the ground in Idaho. She yawned and glanced across the aisle at Pitt, who sat engrossed reading a Jeff Edwards novel.
“Home at last,” she said.
Pitt looked up and smiled, then gazed out at the gray gloom hanging over Reagan National Airport as evening fell. “I was beginning to have my doubts we’d ever make it back.”
He had spent the better part of the morning being interrogated by Navy, FBI, and local Idaho law enforcement authorities about the previous night’s fatal accident. Ann redirected the questioning as best she could and ultimately gained his release, along with Heiland’s plans salvaged from the wrecked car.
The Gulfstream rolled off the runway, bypassing the commercial terminals for a private hangar reserved for government aircraft. A blue Ford Taurus shot onto the tarmac and pulled alongside as the jet’s wheels were chocked. Dan Fowler climbed out of the car and stood by, tapping his foot and checking his watch, until the jet’s door opened. He rushed over to Ann, took her hand, and helped her down the steps.
“Ann, are you okay?”
“Dan, I wasn’t expecting to see you here. We’re both a little tired, but holding up fine.”
“I thought you could use a lift home.”
Pitt followed her out of the plane and handed her a new pair of crutches.
“Good to see you, Dirk.” Fowler reached out to shake Pitt’s hand.
“After the last two days, I’m not sure I’m so happy to see you,” Pitt said, returning his handshake.
Fowler noticed Pitt was moving with his own limp. “Were you hurt, too?”
“A bullet grazed my calf. I got off easier than Ann.”
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Fowler said. “We obviously had no idea of the danger you both were walking into. We had only speculated that someone might be trying to obtain Heiland’s research when he disappeared. We certainly had no idea of the seriousness of the threat.”
“You mean threats,” Ann said. “At least they ended up as failed threats.”
Fowler gave Ann an anxious look. “Do you have Heiland’s plans?”
Pitt ducked into the Gulfstream and returned with the bin containing Heiland’s laptops and research journals. “It’s all here,” Pitt said.
Fowler looked relieved. He stepped to the rear of his car and opened the trunk. Pitt followed, shooting the security director a sharp glance as he dropped the bin in.
“You may not know it,” Fowler said, “but that represents a priceless bit of naval technology.”
“Then why didn’t you arrange an armed security escort to keep it safe? Someone is willing to kill for that data.”
“Don’t worry. It’s headed to a secure room in the bowels of the DARPA headquarters building—just as soon as I take Ann home.”
Pitt retrieved Ann’s bag from the Gulfstream and placed it in the trunk beside the bin.
“Can I give you a lift, too?” Fowler asked.
“No, thanks,” Pitt said. “I actually live within walking distance of here. After being cooped up the last few hours, I could use a good stretch of the legs.” He turned to say good-bye to Ann.
“Good luck with the investigation.”
Ann threw her arms around Pitt and gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered.
“You take care of that leg.” He helped her into the car, and waved as they drove off into the gloom.