Hofmann was a big lumbering figure, and his reactions just didn’t seem fast enough to evade Figgis and Blakemore’s trap, even though we all knew it was coming. Jan, behind us at the wheel of Rebanks’s car, did manage to zip past, but received the same criticism that Todd had.
We went back and did it all again. And again.
In fact, we went backwards and forwards a dozen times. I fared no better than the others. I was thankful when my turn was over, and I could relinquish control of the Audi to McKenna. Besides, he drove so badly it even made me look good. Romunstad’s rallying experience made him the star of the exercise.
Getting back up the forest track to our starting point had become a race for most of the boys. They were treating it like their own personal closed stage, safe in the knowledge that they weren’t going to meet anyone coming the other way. Even the gradually encroaching fog hadn’t slowed them down, although visibility was worsening all the time.
Declan was driving the lead car, and Hofmann was behind the wheel of ours, sticking to the Irishman’s tail like he was slipstreaming him. I daren’t look, but I was pretty sure that Craddock, at the wheel of the car behind us, was just as close to our rear bumper. We were approaching our turnaround point.
“I dread to think what Major Gilby’s going to say,” I remarked loudly over the frantically revving engine, “if we prang all three cars at the same time.”
In the front passenger seat, Todd turned round to grin at me. He opened his mouth, no doubt to make some smart alec reply, but if he actually spoke, I never heard it.
At that moment we seemed to pick up the most enormous stone chip. It landed with a crack in the centre of the front windscreen, which split right the way across in both directions.
Ahead of us, Declan’s brake lights blazed. Hofmann hit the brakes and the back end of Declan’s car at almost the same instant. The impact was a jarring crunch that threw me forwards against my jammed seatbelt, the diagonal jerking my shoulder. I saw the lead Audi flick out sideways off to the right of the track, bouncing down nose-first into the trees.
If I’d had the time to think about it, I would have put the accident down to sheer bad driving. It was only when Declan’s car was out of the way that I saw the familiar black Peugeot sideways across the track less than fifty metres in front, blocking the way.
Behind it stood four men with machine pistols, their muzzles flashing like strobes as they fired at us.
Hofmann suddenly went into overdrive. He spun the wheel over to the left and grabbed for the handbrake without having to be told. The move would have been textbook if it hadn’t been for the car behind. Craddock rammed the Audi’s rear wing just as we started to swing round.
Our car flipped over, still travelling at speed. My world went haywire and turned upside down. I wrapped my arms round my head as the side window nearest to me crazed and shattered, showering me with chunks of glass. Sticks and leaves and stones were scooped inside as we scraped along the forest track on our roof.
It seemed to take a long time before we came to a stop. The floormat had dropped onto my feet, trapping them in the footwell and for a moment I panicked. I released my seatbelt without thinking about it, dropping painfully into the roof of the car in a tangle of arms and legs. Beside me, Elsa was moving groggily, bleeding from a cut on her forehead. McKenna was hanging slumped alongside her, not moving.
In the front Hofmann was uninjured, but the windscreen pillars had folded down slightly, encroaching on his position, and his size meant he was struggling to get free. He was wrenching at the steering wheel, heaving at it with enough strength to set the car rocking.
The smell of petrol burned the back of my throat. Behind me I could hear the fuel pump still whining, even though the engine had stalled. It was Todd who reached over and switched off the ignition.
“Is everybody OK?” he demanded.
From somewhere above us came the rattle of automatic gunfire. I flinched and thought of the petrol. The desire to get out of that car was overwhelming. I bit down hard on it.
Hofmann had managed to bend the bottom edge of the steering wheel almost double. He pulled his legs free, swivelled in his seat, and kicked the buckled driver’s door so hard it exploded open.
Todd grabbed his arm. “Wait,” he said. “Where are they?”
I ducked down and peered out through my side window. After he’d punted us up the rear end, Craddock had brought the last Audi to a halt about five metres behind us, slanted across the track. Figgis, who’d been with him, was out of the car holding a Beretta twelve-bore pump-action shotgun. As I watched, he jacked the first round into the chamber, brought the butt up to his shoulder, and fired. I don’t know what kind of slugs he had in that thing, but the noise was incredible.
The men from the Peugeot weren’t expecting an armed response. They ducked back behind their car.
“Come on,” I said. “We’ve got some covering fire.”
My door wouldn’t open, but the broken window was plenty big enough to squeeze out of if you were determined you could do it. Elsa followed me out and we dodged round to the other side to help Hofmann drag McKenna clear. By the time Todd was out of the car, one of the school SIGs had appeared in his hand and he looked itching to use it.
We ran back behind Figgis’s car, keeping low. I looked across to where the first Audi had taken a nose-dive into the trees. The occupants had all managed to scramble out and now they fell back to join us. It was getting crowded back there, but I was amazed to discover that nobody had been seriously injured in the pile-up.
“Keep the bastards pinned down,” Todd shouted.
“I’m doing my best,” Figgis said with surprising calm. He let off another shot, exploding the rear tyre of the Peugeot and peppering the wing.
“What the hell are Blakemore and O’Neill doing?” Todd snapped. “Can’t they hear this lot going down?”
One of the shooters popped up from behind the front end of the Peugeot and let loose another burst. The gun was short, similar to an IMI Mini-Uzi, but with a bulky foregrip just under the business end of the barrel. I didn’t recognise the make and didn’t feel inclined to spend time finding out.
“We have to get into the forest,” Jan said curtly. “With this mist we can find better cover there.”
Todd, Rebanks and Figgis exchanged glances, then nodded. “When I give the signal,” Rebanks said, tense, “we all scatter, OK?”
“Who are these people?” Elsa asked, her face dead white. “Why are they shooting at us?” Nobody bothered to answer.
Hofmann picked up McKenna, who was starting to come round, but was still groggy. Rebanks drew a SIG from inside his jacket and cocked it. Did the instructors go armed at all times, I wondered, or had they just been expecting trouble today?
“OK, now!” Rebanks shouted. The three of them jumped up, firing, and the rest of us ran for the trees.
We ran in an outward dispersal pattern. I ended up on the extreme left, a lot closer to the ambush than I would have liked. I resisted the urge to run directly away from the gunmen. Too many of us clumped together presented too tempting a target.
As it was I heard the high-pitched whine of several rounds whistling past me and thunking into the surrounding tree trucks. My imagination placed them closer than reality, but I tried not to think about that.
It wasn’t a new experience to be faced with people shooting at me. Still, this time they hadn’t been sent with the express purpose of killing me. At least, I hoped not.