The road ahead curved back and forth like an S. Lush green trees flew by on both sides as Tommy steered to the left, then right, and then back again. The easily distracted Sean had a fleeting thought about how much fun the road would be for one of his motorcycles. A gunshot from the truck behind them brought him back to the danger at hand.
He planted his feet as firmly as possible against the left wheel well and pushed his back hard against the bedrail. The gun’s barrel wavered one direction and then the other as the turns in the road dictated its momentum. Instead of fighting it, Sean let it move.
Just like shooting clays, he thought.
The target passed through his weapon’s sights once, twice, and a third time. On the fourth, his finger twitched and pulled the trigger. The bullet smashed through the windshield and struck the driver in the chest. A second later, the pickup drove off the road through the curve and crashed into a tree.
Tommy saw what happened in the rearview mirror. “Good one!” he shouted back at his friend.
Sean didn’t reply to the compliment. He still had three more targets to go.
The next truck in line repeated the same process the other two had used. They closed in, and the gunman in the passenger seat steadied himself to fire. The road straightened out for a moment, and Sean took quick aim at the other shooter.
“Rain coming!” Tommy yelled.
In the blink of an eye, the world around them dove headfirst into an all-out downpour. There was no subtle sprinkle leading into a rain shower. Just a sudden, unapologetic deluge.
The gunman climbed back into the cab for a moment to wipe his eyes. The windshield wipers went back at forth at a furious rate, sending sheets of water off to the side with every pass.
Tommy was forced to slow down due to poor visibility, and to keep better traction. Fortunately, the other trucks had to slow for the same reasons.
Sean kept his weapon trained on the next vehicle and lined up the sights with the grill. Huge drops of water dripped off the muzzle and barrel. His hair and clothes were soaked. But his aim was steady. He let the weapon move and breathed with the movement of the truck. As the sights passed by his target, he squeezed the trigger twice.
One round missed, but the second plowed through the front of the truck, piercing the radiator. Steam poured out of the hood, and the truck’s speed fell off. The last two in line passed it, and soon it was out of sight.
“Two left,” he said to himself. Sean shook the rain from his face and hair and lined up the next truck.
These guys, however, had no intention of going down the way the others had. The last pickup in line pulled up next to the other one as they entered a long straightaway.
Both gunmen popped out of their windows and opened fire. Most of the shots were wildly off target. They were at a major disadvantage trying to fire into the wind-driven rain. It was unlikely they could see anything, and if a single raindrop struck them in the eye, it would have felt like being hit by a pellet from an air rifle.
Sean — on the other hand — didn’t have that problem. But the sheer volume of rounds being fired by the gunmen presented serious danger. Any idiot could get lucky if they squeezed off enough shots.
As the pursuit entered a long curve, one round shattered the side mirror on the Americans’ truck. Another ripped through the metal frame on the passenger side of the cabin.
Instinctively, Sean ducked for cover until they were through the turn. A deep ravine appeared on his left. The chase was climbing the mountain quickly, in spite of having to slow down due to the downpour.
The shooters to the rear retreated to their seats to reload, and the driver of the truck from the back returned to his lane.
Then — just as suddenly as it had begun — the rain ended. Warm, steamy air washed over the truck, and sunlight radiated down on the mountain. The little advantage Sean possessed was gone. No more potshots, he thought.
The road wound to the left and then made a sharp turn back to the right, climbing toward the summit.
The driver in the rear swerved into the other lane and pulled alongside the other truck. Their shooters simultaneously reappeared in the windows and readied their weapons.
Sean slid to the back of the truck and braced his feet against the tailgate. He pressed his shoulder into the butt of the weapon and aimed at the front right tire of the truck to his right.
Two birds with one stone.
The shooters opened fire, but so did Sean. He pulled back on the trigger and held it, unloading the contents of his magazine at the oncoming pickup.
One of the rounds struck through the bumper and into the rubber. The tire ruptured instantly, causing the pickup to lurch to the right. The driver couldn’t regain control fast enough and he plowed into the other vehicle.
His comrade didn’t expect to be sideswiped and was unprepared for the blow. He fought the force, trying desperately to steer left, but the oncoming curve was too sharp.
Both trucks sailed off the road and over the edge. Sean watched them go airborne until they disappeared in the trees of the steep valley below.
He tossed the weapon into the truck bed and crawled back to the front. He smacked the cabin roof twice. “Hey, slow down. They’re gone.”
Tommy nodded and pulled the pickup off to the side of the road where the shoulder broadened to create a makeshift overlook.
Sean just sat in the back for a minute and collected himself. Tommy hopped out and rested his arms on the bedrail. He looked back at the empty road and then at his friend.
“Good shootin’, Tex.”
Sean’s head bobbed once. “Thanks.”
“But what are we gonna do about that plane?”
Sean’s gaze remained on the tailgate. “I memorized the tail number. We’ll track it down. Just as soon as I find a towel.”
24
“Senator, I’m growing very tired of this annoying interference from your government.” Khalif spoke into the phone with a cool, even tone, dipped in venom.
“And I’m growing tired of this conversation, Omar. I warned you to handle your people better. What happened now? Another shipment get lost? If those missiles end up in the wrong hands, you better make sure no one knows where they came from. I’ve got a lot to lose if you screw this up.”
Senator Thorpe did little to hide his irritation.
Khalif was in his study. Beige linen curtains hung from iron rods over the windows, blunting the sunlight pouring into the room and giving it a sort of permanent dusk feel. He leaned back in his Corinthian leather chair and pressed his head into it, drawing a deep breath. The leather’s scent filled his nostrils before he sighed.
“I have taken every precaution, Harold. If your people continue to pursue this, I assure you they will not return to America.”
“Fine! Kill them. Whatever you have to do. Just make sure they can’t trace any of this back to me. You hear?”
“I understand, Senator. But you made assurances — assurances that the United States would leave me alone. And while I have taken extra measures to make sure my plan succeeds, I am disappointed that you have not held up your end of the bargain.” He twirled a finger around and around in his mustache.
Thorpe laughed. “What do you mean, I haven’t held up my end? I got you what you wanted. You know what? Stop calling me. You’re right; we are finished. I got you what you wanted. You paid me. As far as I’m concerned, our deal is completed. Okay?”