Behind me, the SUV is keeping pace, relentless in its pursuit.
I need to get rid of these guys, and fast. It won’t be long before they get their friends to join them, and even I know I can’t take on the entire CIA all at once.
The road ahead is straight as an arrow, and reasonably clear, so I ease off the gas a little and allow them to close the gap. I can see the look of grim determination on the driver’s face in my rearview.
The lane next to me is empty…
I whip the wheel to the right and stamp hard on the brakes, causing the Audi to spin clockwise, off to the side. The SUV goes shooting past me. I quickly turn the wheel the opposite way, fighting to regain control of the vehicle, which I manage to do as I’m completing a full circle. The back end fishtails, but I straighten up and position myself directly behind the CIA agents.
Phew!
I pick up my Beretta, which I’d temporarily dropped onto the passenger seat, and rest my hand on the top of the windshield. I fire five rounds in quick succession. At this speed, aiming is tricky, but all bar one hit the mark.
The SUV swerves uncontrollably as the bullets impact the back of it, cracking the rear windshield — the driver maybe not expecting me to shoot at them.
Seriously, I figured they would’ve done some research on me, or something… I’m a little insulted!
They regain control and move to the left, slowing to draw level with me. I think they’re going to try ramming me, which, given I’m doing 110 miles per hour, and they’re in a much larger, heavier vehicle, isn’t likely to end well for me.
I move alongside them, looking across and smiling at the agent riding shotgun as he rolls down his window and leans out, slowly bringing his weapon into view. Checking that the road immediately ahead is clear, I whip my own gun up and stare at him. I see in his eyes the exact moment he realizes he wasn’t quick enough to beat me.
I aim just to the right of where I want to hit, to compensate for the speed I’m traveling, and pull the trigger once.
The noise is drowned out by the roaring wind, but the effects are just as devastating. The agent’s head snaps back violently as the bullet strikes him between the eyes. Again, the vehicle swerves, struggling to maintain control as the agent’s body lurches backward from the impact, hitting the driver.
I know they’ll be distracted for a few more seconds, so this is my chance…
I slam on the brakes and push myself up slightly in my seat, keeping one hand on the wheel so I stay straight while I take aim. As the SUV carries on ahead, I fire twice, hitting the front tire with the second round.
The rubber disintegrates almost immediately. The SUV jolts violently before sliding sideways and flipping over, rolling away from me. It smashes into three other vehicles. The sound of metal tearing and colliding with more metal is ferociously loud, grating through me like nails on a chalkboard.
I speed up, navigating the minefield of debris scattering itself across the interstate until I draw level with the vehicle, which has come to a stop, spinning on its roof, away from the other cars. I bring my gun up as I move past, trying to time my shot with the revolution of the SUV…
Bang!
I fire once as the exposed gas tank presents itself, and the resulting explosion shakes the ground around me, filling my rearview with smoke and flames. I drop the gun on the passenger seat again as I refocus on the road. The acrid smell of burning fuel is strong in the air.
In the distance, the faint sound of sirens drifts across the interstate.
Time for me to be somewhere else, I think…
Traffic is slowing to a crawl as people on both sides of the road stop to look at the remains of the SUV, barely visible among the flames. I weave my way through and take the first exit.
I need to ditch this car and swap it for something less conspicuous. Aside from a few bullet holes, it’s still in good condition. I’ll call Case once I reach New Hampshire and tell him where his wheels are.
I just hope the assholes who were chasing me didn’t call back to the mothership with my whereabouts before they blew up.
How the hell did they even find me? I’ve been so careful…
Well, no sense worrying about that now. I’ve bought myself a few hours at least. I need to get another car and track down the first name on this list. I don’t have time to waste.
4
President Cunningham was sitting at the head of a long, polished table in the Situation Room, underneath the West Wing of the White House, meeting with members of his National Security Council. Opposite him, mounted on the wall, was a large display screen, currently switched off. He leaned back in his chair, listening to the discussion as he took a sip from his bottle of water.
On his immediate left was Elaine Phillips, the secretary of state. She was a strong woman in her early fifties with graying blonde hair. She was known for being very forthright and direct. From a political point of view, Cunningham held her in high regard. She was strong-willed, frightfully intelligent, and widely respected by both parties. He knew he couldn’t simply replace her the way he had many of the others. Consequently, he exercised caution whenever she was present at meetings because she wasn’t privy to his ongoing agenda.
Sitting across from her was Gerald Heskith, Cunningham’s chief of staff. He was a loyal and long-standing friend who had been instrumental not only in getting him elected as president, but also in helping him shape his vision for a new future. He was a little overweight, with the excess sitting primarily on his gut. He was a highly intelligent man, and many within the administration believed him to be a natural successor to Cunningham, when the time came.
Beside Heskith was the secretary of defense, Bruce Fielding. He, too, was committed to helping President Cunningham in his goal to usher in a new era of peace. He had been brought in to replace Ryan Schultz, who Cunningham had felt simply wasn’t the right fit to be included in his plans for the future.
Fielding was currently deep in conversation with General Pat Green, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table facing the president.
“I understand what you’re saying, Pat, I do,” said Fielding, his voice deep and authoritative. “But there’s no sense in sending large numbers of our troops overseas at this stage. GlobaTech Industries has it covered, and I believe our priority should be the ongoing safety of our own citizens.”
General Green was used to clashing with Fielding over issues regarding the armed forces, often feeling his advice was redundant or unwanted, despite his position and military history. But in light of recent events, he was struggling to exercise his usual level of diplomacy.
He shook his head. “I can’t fathom why you would disagree with me on this! Why sit and wait for any problems to come to us? If we take responsibility and get involved now, we can help the countries that need it. At the same time directly contributing to the prevention of further conflict.”
Both men fell silent, sensing the stalemate.
Cunningham sat forward in his chair, taking a deep breath as he contemplated both viewpoints. Despite completely agreeing with Secretary Fielding — primarily because he had told Fielding what to say before the meeting — he knew the importance of acting like any other president would to keep up appearances.
He looked to his left. “Elaine, what do you think?”
Secretary Phillips was slightly taken aback. “Mr. President, it’s not really my place to comment on matters relating to our country’s armed forces. I—”