Sean was on his way to meet his old friend when something caught his eye, flashing by on the other side of the road. It was Charlie, being hurried out of his shop by a man Sean didn’t recognize. And the expression on Charlie’s face wasn’t his usual grumpy look.
It was one of grave desperation.
Sean had pulled into an alley across the road and watched through his mirror as the stranger forced Charlie into the car and hopped into the driver’s seat. The strong jaw, thick neck, and light-brown hair cut close to the scalp caused Sean to immediately think the guy’s background was military. Something about the man’s eyes, however, was what bothered Sean the most. Even through the tinted visor of his motorcycle helmet and the windshield of the Cadillac he could see the driver’s cold, calculating stare. Sean had seen that look before, more times than he’d like to think, and death always followed close behind.
Sean knew immediately that his friend was in trouble. For a second, he wondered why Charlie didn’t try to escape. He must have been held at gunpoint or tied up. Either way, Sean knew what he had to do in a matter of seconds.
Following the Cadillac, careful to stay a few cars back, he revved the Thruxton’s engine as the train of vehicles merged onto Highway 27, heading north toward the river.
Sean slipped into the middle lane, allowing other cars to get between him and the one he followed. A classic mistake too many people made when tailing another vehicle was that they tried too hard to look like they weren’t following. Sometimes, getting farther behind than an optimal distance could keep one from being discovered. Sean always worked from the assumption that whoever he was up against was a pro. The case of the Cadillac’s driver was no exception. Better to assume the worst.
The black luxury sedan sped along the twisting highway, making its way over the Tennessee River and past the exits for Northshore. They continued beyond the city limits, winding through the outskirts and into the thick forests and dramatic, rolling mountains. Traffic thinned as Sean followed the mysterious driver, leaving him fewer and fewer places to hide on the highway. As much as he loved being on two wheels, now was one of those times he would have traded the motorcycle for an ordinary-looking Japanese sedan, a car that would blend in with the rest. His bike may as well have had sirens and flashing lights on it.
He swerved behind a big rig and tucked in behind the trailer, watching each exit carefully to see if the Cadillac had left the main road.
Off in the distance, charcoal-gray clouds loomed over the mountains to the north. Sean hated riding in the rain. He’d been riding motorcycles since he was six, but there were two times he actively avoided being on one of his many bikes: when it was raining and when it was cold. He remembered checking the forecast the day before, which had claimed the chance of rain in the area would only be 20 percent. It seemed he was traveling right into that slim window of possibility.
He and the eighteen-wheeler passed another exit, and this time Sean saw what he’d been expecting. The black sedan carrying Charlie weaved around the curvy off ramp and disappeared momentarily underneath the bridge, a second later appearing on the other side. Whoever was driving the car definitely wanted to get away from the crowds of the city to a more remote location. Concern boiled in Sean’s mind.
The driver had chosen an exit with no gas stations or restaurants and very little traffic. Sean had driven past the area once or twice, but never explored it. Keeping up with the Cadillac would prove to be more difficult now.
He leaned the motorcycle to the right and sped around the ramp’s long curve, merging onto the lonely country road. A rusted old pickup truck lumbered along in the left lane ahead. Beyond the dilapidated truck, Sean spotted the black sedan just before it disappeared around a bend in the road. He twisted the throttle, accelerating past the pickup truck in mere seconds. The road bent to the right then back to the left in a serpentine fashion, heading toward the dramatic slope of a heavily forested mountain blanketed in oak trees, dogwoods, and pine. Sean noted the clouds continuing to gather overhead. The prospect of trying to speed up a curvy mountain road in the rain wasn’t something he found particularly appealing.
The road inclined drastically as Sean deftly guided the motorcycle around one turn and then the other. Questions swirled in his head. Who was the driver? What did he want with Charlie? What had his friend got himself into?
Charlie wasn’t the type to get on the bad side of the wrong people. While he could seem grumpy at times, Charlie was a generally good-natured person. Stubborn, but good natured. He’d been in the army during Vietnam, a helicopter pilot by trade. When he returned to the United States, Charlie poured his energy into studying history. He even wrote a few books on the subject. Lately, his time had been occupied with the antique shop. Sean found it strange that Charlie had never married, however he believed his old friend probably had a special lady somewhere.
The motorcycle crested the ridge of the mountain, and the road stretched out in a straight line down into the Sequatchie Valley below. Vast cornfields, only recently planted, dotted the flats and rolling hills between the mountain peaks. In between each farm, thick forests of oak, pine, and maple separated the various properties. Sean eased back on the throttle a little, now in direct line of sight with the Cadillac. The car had put some distance between them, now probably a tenth of a mile away, maybe more. Sean let the motorcycle coast down the long straightaway and watched carefully through his tinted visor.
Thick, black clouds roiled overhead, and Sean saw the rain line rapidly moving through the valley toward him. The sedan entered the deluge first, causing visibility of the car to dim slightly. Ten seconds later, Sean plunged into the monsoon. The heavy raindrops pounded his arms and chest like huge BBs, instantly soaking his clothes. Fortunately, he always rubbed his helmet’s visor with Rain-X just in case, so the droplets that hit it rolled away, keeping his vision somewhat clearer. In the pouring rain, however, visibility had decreased exponentially. Sean squinted instinctively. It didn’t help much. He could only see twenty feet ahead, but managed to notice the red flash of brake lights through the deluge.
Sean cautiously applied his own brakes. He’d seen several motorcyclists try to stop too quickly on wet roads and lose control as the tires slipped on the slick surface. His Triumph responded well to the action, and his speed slowed easily. The lights of the car were gone, but it appeared as though they were turning right when they’d flashed a few moments before. He kept his eyes on the side of the road as he crept along the flat stretch of valley road. He only noticed the dirt road to his right as it passed by. Sean squeezed his brakes a little harder, bringing the bike to a quick stop. He flipped up his visor to get a better view. The back end of the Cadillac turned right, disappearing into the forest. Sean knew his motorcycle would be useless on the mud driveway. He would have to leave it on the side of the road.
Using his feet, he peddled backward ten feet and then carefully eased the bike onto the road’s shoulder. He tilted it onto its kickstand in some tall, wet grass and turned off the engine. A second later, he removed his helmet and hung it on one of the handlebars. The warm downpour soaked his shaggy blond hair instantly, and droplets dripped continuously off his nose. Unsure of how far back the sedan’s driver would go, Sean took off at a brisk jog. He needed to catch up before anything happened to his friend.
A sudden flash of lightning crackled a few miles away, followed closely by a booming clap of thunder only seconds later. Sean hated being out in a thunderstorm. It was one of the few things that scared him, dwarfed only by his fear of heights and venomous animals. He knew the odds of being struck by lightning were low; a random occurrence that rarely killed someone. Still, he wanted to keep those odds as low as possible. Running through the woods in the middle of a storm didn’t seem like a good way to keep them down.