Pulling himself back into the cab, Sean shouted at Joe. “Mac, I got an idea.”
“Do I wanna hear it?” Another volley of projectiles pounded the truck, one missing Joe by mere inches, piercing the windshield. He reacted by lurching the truck to the right.
“When I tell you, slam on the brakes and let them hit us!”
“What? Are you crazy?!” His beady eyes were wide with doubt.
“Just do it,” Sean insisted.
“Alright,” Joe mumbled. Then he raised his voice, “But you’re buyin’ me a new truck!”
Without acknowledging the comment, Sean reached back out the driver’s side rear window again, this time only peppering a few shots at the car. He turned his head around to look at the road ahead, the wind blowing hard in his face. Joe steered the car around a sharp corner, edging over into the other lane, the force nearly pulled Wyatt out of window. The road straightened out briefly, but another curve approached rapidly about a hundred yards ahead.
“Mac, just before you get to that turn, hit the brakes!”
Joe didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Sean arched his body out the opening again and launched a few more bullets.
“Hang on, buddy!” Joe shouted back. He looked over at Allyson who was bracing herself for the collision.
Joe slammed on the brakes. Sean braced himself against the back of the seat as the truck quickly lost velocity.
The driver of the pursuing car did not expect the brash move and swerved immediately to avoid the stopping pickup.
Instantly, Sean turned out the window unleashed a flurry of bullets into the exposed and now off balance gunman of the passing car. Crimson liquid erupted from his neck as he slid back in through the window, grasping pointlessly at the wounds.
Suddenly, another gunshot resonated from the front seat of the truck. Sean saw the bullet hit the driver in the shoulder, causing the attacker to jerk the steering wheel left.
The feeble guard rails gave way easily to the head on force of the speeding vehicle. There was a brief sound of metal grinding on metal as the car vaulted over the edge of the mountain and disappeared from site.
Joe eased the truck to a stop, feeling very awkward at the moment.
Sean’s face was stunned as he peered into the front seat. What he saw was Allyson sprawled across his friend’s lap, arms extended out the window holding a Glock 9mm.
“Journalist?” He asked with an eyebrow raised.
She was busy trying to pull herself off of Joe, who just stared at her with his mouth agape.
“Well,” she said sliding her gun back into a concealed jacket pocket, “I may have hidden a few details.” She shrugged and gave a flirty smile.
Sean just shook his head. “You mean, like, all of them?” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he reached for the door handle.
The three simultaneously opened the doors, got out of the bullet riddled vehicle, and stepped over to the now mangled railing. Just beyond it, the mountain dropped off down a steep cliff. At the bottom, probably five hundred feet below, the undercarriage of the smoking car lay motionless, facing the sky.
Mac snorted, “In the movies, don’t those things usually blow up?”
“Yeah,” Sean said without a smile. He holstered his gun back inside his jacket.
Allyson stood calmly, looking down the mountainside at the wreckage.
Joe was still very confused. “I think you have some explainin’ to do, young lady.”
Sean turned and looked at her as well, “Yeah,” he agreed, “exactly who are you working for?”
“I work for the same agency you used to work for, Sean,” her demeanor had changed dramatically from vulnerable to stalwart.
“You work for Axis?” Sean was skeptical, one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah. Sorry I had to lie to you. It was necessary.”
“I’m used to women lying to me,” he replied sarcastically.
“I was just following orders. They gave me permission to fill you in if and when necessary.”
“I had those two handled,” Sean motioned to what was left of the sedan in the ravine below.
She smiled and cocked her head to the side, “Just thought you could use a little help. No need to thank me.”
He snorted a few laughs and shook his head. “Wow. It’s like that, huh?”
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Joe cut into the interaction between them, “but we should probably get out of here.”
The two acknowledged his assessment and headed back toward the car. Joe looked back one last time at the gaping hole where the gray metal barrier had stood. Then he got in the cab and revved the engine to life.
Sean closed the back door then asked, “So is your real name Allyson Webster?”
She looked back at him playfully with a wicked grin, “Maybe.”
Chapter 33
Normally, Tommy didn’t sleep well in cars. In fact, traveling in airplanes, buses, and even the occasional train made it difficult for him to get any kind of real rest. For the last hour, however, he’d slept like a log in the back seat of the Hummer. Unfortunately, the nap was over.
“Wake up, we’re here.” The accented voice startled Tommy.
During the duration of his unconsciousness, he’d hoped that the man called Ulrich had just been a figment of some nightmare. With waking came the realization that he wasn’t. “Where is ‘here?’” He asked still half-asleep.
“Track Rock,” Ulrich reminded him from the front passenger’s seat. Apparently, the guy running the show preferred to be driven when possible. Or maybe he just wanted to keep an eye on the prisoner, not fully trusting the guard in the back with Tommy.
“Oh, yeah. Right,” he feigned forgetfulness. “So, is there a Waffle House around here? I could use some scattered, smothered, and covered hash browns right about now.”
The response he got was a cereal bar hitting him in the chest from the front of the vehicle.
“Thanks,” Tommy replied sarcastically with an upward nod.
Outside the truck, the sun was bright in the early morning sky, coming up over the mountains. He was glad the windows were at least tinted.
The hired gun driving the SUV pulled into a parking spot near an open field that led uphill and into a forest that stretched another thousand feet higher.
Ulrich spoke up again as he opened the back door, “Move.”
Tommy opened his own door, stepping into a vastly different world than he’d left in the city. All around them, the hills of the Blue Ridge Mountains were patched with the vibrant colors of Autumn. No other cars were in the parking lot at this time of day, save for the white and green truck of whatever ranger was on duty. A light breeze brushed over the group making the air cooler than normal. The elevation also dropped the temperature several degrees. Tommy was glad he had put on his jacket the morning he’d been kidnapped.
A solitary cloud wisped through the sky high above them as the entourage walked from the parking area through the grass. Short Guard was carrying a black book bag on one shoulder. “What’s with the bag?” Tommy asked.
The stocky man in the black trench coat did not answer. He just kept walking with his eyes focused forward.
Up ahead, perhaps only a hundred feet from the parking lot, four large cages sat at the trailhead of the woods. The iron bars had been fastened around the rocks to keep graffiti artists and vandals from disturbing the integrity of the site.
Tommy thought back to the research from the night before and shook his head, realizing that the number four appeared again with these four boulders. Apparently the number four had something to do with the solution. Maybe it was a coincidence. There was no way to know for sure at that moment. He just hoped there was something to find at that site, anything. If he was wrong about the boulders having an answer to the riddle, there was little doubt what these killers would do.