“If I could, I would.”
“Maybe there’s... a side street, or something?” But her voice lost hope as the road unrolled ahead, devoid of intersections.
“There’s one at the top of the hill!” Her tone brightened.
“We want to avoid that. It’s a dead end.”
“You know this place so well?”
“Like the back of my hand. We recently did a major assignment in this area.”
Joey checked his mirrors again and saw how much ground the BMW had gained. The driver had both hands on the wheel, his face drawn into the rictus of a grin. He was taking his time before shooting, knowing his quarry was trapped on the road and all out of options.
But time for him also meant time for them, and suddenly Joey realized where they could go.
Parallel to this road was a dirt track that led to one of the vulnerable mine entrances where Private had placed security guards. Once before, in better weather, he’d managed to cross the veldt and access that road. In this weather, it would be a huge gamble, but there was one certainty he could rely on.
The SUV would get farther than the low-slung sedan behind them.
“Hang on tight,” he warned Isobel.
She glanced at him, blue eyes wide, her short, platinum hair in spiky disarray.
“To what?” she asked him breathlessly.
“To whatever you can find. We’re heading off-road.”
A final glance in the mirror. He was only just in time. The man behind was right on their tail now. His window was open and he was ready to shoot.
Wrenching the wheel to the right, Joey stood on the brakes.
The tires screamed as the big vehicle slewed sideways. Joey fought the wheel, aware that Isobel had grabbed the dash with one hand, and his shoulder with the other. He’d swerved right to avoid a collision with the car pursuing them, hoping the BMW would accelerate ahead, but he hadn’t bargained on their hunter reacting so fast. A second shriek of tires told him he hadn’t gained any ground from this maneuver. That damned kidney grille was still looming behind them.
Joey scanned the embankment, desperately looking for a place to turn that wouldn’t gut the car instantly. There... the ground was more even in a spot just ahead. Not much smoother, but enough to give them a chance.
“Now try and follow us,” Joey snapped. He swung the wheel, and the big SUV sped over the embankment. There was a harsh scraping sound, which he’d expected, but the rain worked in their favor, softening the ground so that the heavy vehicle plowed through the top of the bank, instead of getting stuck. Then they were airborne, and Isobel’s grip on his shoulder tightened. They landed with a stomach-wrenching thud, and went bouncing across the muddy veldt beyond.
A whiplash crack from behind, and a hole punched through the middle of the windshield. A few inches left or right, and one of them would be dead.
“Down,” Joey urged. Isobel, face white, flattened herself. He couldn’t risk doing the same — this going was treacherous and there was too much risk of hitting a rock or ending up in a ditch. He swerved around a massive termite mound jutting out of long grass that could hide other obstacles.
Another shot from behind, but this one went wide. Now, every second that passed took them farther out of range. In his mirrors, he saw the tall man, standing at the top of the embankment. Realizing he couldn’t follow them, the man had climbed out of his car to get a better shot.
Then Joey glanced at Isobel. She was sitting up again, even though he hadn’t told her to. On her face, he saw only fierce concentration, and felt a sudden surge of admiration for her toughness, which he hadn’t expected.
“Ditch on the left,” she warned, and he altered course to avoid a gaping channel in the ground, well camouflaged by overgrowth.
“By the way,” she added, “thank you for saving my life.”
“I was only just in time,” Joey said. “Whoever was chasing us is a professional, for sure, and he will still be on the hunt. So, tell me what’s going on. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?”
Chapter 14
It was unusual for Steyn to be frustrated. But now, he felt his control slipping away. Standing in the mud and staring at the SUV’s receding brake lights, he clenched his fists as pure, killing rage overwhelmed him.
She’d escaped again. Who had picked her up? Her bodyguard had been canceled — he had made sure of that. But someone had rescued her, and random knights in shining armor were in short supply around here. So she must have booked somebody else. With this man’s help, she had outwitted him.
Breathing hard, he stared into the rain until the SUV disappeared from view. He was soaking wet. His beanie was drenched. He ripped it off and shook out his brown hair, cut into a neat and unremarkable style.
His nails dug into his palms as he imagined the woman — overpowered at last, perhaps injured, but not yet dead. She’d bested him, and that was unforgivable. It was seldom Steyn had the opportunity to exact a slow revenge. But now he promised her silently: When I find you — not if, when — I will not give you the mercy of a quick death.
It had been a long time since he’d been able to have his own way with a victim. In jobs, the clients’ needs came first, and a faster killing was less risky. He’d had the opportunity last year, a happy accident of timing, and he could remember every moment. The victim had lasted for thirteen hours and eight minutes before he’d died. As Steyn had listened to his screams hoarsen and fade, and watched the man’s struggles slowly weaken under his ministrations, Steyn had felt something inside him slowly release, unfolding into warmth. He very seldom had feelings of joy. Anger, occasionally. Fear, never. His only fear was being confined. He wasn’t sure why, but suspected it was to do with his early childhood, of which he had only vague memories and occasional nightmares.
Now, remembering that rare surge of pleasure, he managed to calm himself again. There would be time. Later, he promised himself, there would be time. If not for the woman, then for the man. He might not know now who Isobel’s rescuer was, but Steyn could easily find out. He had a wide network of connections in government departments. Information was a currency, one he traded in frequently. He occasionally paid bribes, but preferred to offer a monthly retainer to key people in exchange for their services.
And for now, his thoughts were clear again, logic slicing cleanly through the emotion and allowing him to formulate a new plan. There could be only one place where his target, and her mysterious Good Samaritan, were headed. After all, it was where he expected her to go. They were taking the back route, a slow, tortuous journey through mired dirt roads. Steyn could take the highway; a longer drive, but so much faster. In fact, it would leave him time for an important detour along the way.
“I’m coming for you,” he murmured.
Then he climbed into the BMW and carefully backed it off the muddy verge. Speed was not his friend here... the tires needed time to bite and grip. A minute later, and he was safely back on the road.
Soon afterward, he was back at Isobel’s rental house. His mouth twisted in amusement as he walked inside. What she must have thought, arriving here... a spoiled, wealthy housewife. He doubted she’d dreamed she would find herself in such a place. There was her luggage in the bedroom: a beautiful set of Louis Vuitton bags. It was ideal for his purposes. He would need it when he created the scenario surrounding her death.
One of the bags was unzipped, and a small notebook filled with neat handwriting lay on top of the folded clothes. Steyn removed it before closing the bag, and slipped it into his jacket pocket, in case it contained anything useful.
Picking up the bags, Steyn mused over the challenge of making the woman’s death slow, rather than swift. It might be best to plant the bags and the car somewhere and have her simply vanish. A missing person. Perhaps he could drop some clues surrounding her disappearance — a few key items removed from the suitcases, to hint at the fact that she might have purposely disappeared. The police wouldn’t look as hard if they suspected she was a runaway.