A voice crackled from the radio speaker. “Delta Four-Six, this is Bravo Two-Five. We are leaving the rail yard and proceeding onto Hayfa Street ahead of you. Do you want us to block the road? Over.”
Buttrick glanced at the map, then shook his head. “We’ll pass them before they can get in position. Have them block the highway leading to the Sarafiya Bridge, just in case. Then they can join us in closing the trap.”
His commands were relayed by the sergeant and a moment later, the Humvee, which had identified itself as B-25, broke across the road in the barely visible distance, crossing the intersection well ahead of the chase and came to a stop in the middle of the cross street.
The stolen Humvee suddenly cut hard to the left, sweeping across both lanes of traffic on a perpendicular approach toward the edge of the road. A collision with the concrete barrier seemed inevitable, but when the front end of the vehicle reached the steeply sloped obstacle, the elevated front end passed over its upper limit, allowing the tires to make contact. The rear wheels continued to supply forward momentum, while the front tires ascended the near vertical hump of cement and stone.
Instantly, the Humvee launched into the air. The rear wheels finished their journey, striking the barricade to give a final burst of impetus as the vehicle leaped skyward and sailed over the highway divider in a short parabolic arc.
The rear tires touched down first, seeming to lightly kiss the pavement, but the contact was enough to snap the front end down violently, creating a ripple of energy that bounced the Humvee across both lanes toward the far edge of the road. Traffic on the highway was light enough that no unlucky souls happened to be in the landing area, but the drivers of several approaching cars instinctively jammed their brakes, skidding out of control to collide with one another. The pile-up began to cascade behind them as the captured Humvee hit the barrier on the far left, lifting once more into the air.
At almost the same moment, the turret gunner on Bravo 25 overcame his disbelief and squeezed the butterfly trigger of his Browning fifty-caliber machine gun. A noisy stream of ammunition began pouring after the renegade vehicle. A few of the rounds found their mark, punching enormous holes in the rear of the stolen truck, but most went wide as evidenced by the tracer rounds that sizzled well past the Humvee and smacked into parked railway freight cars hundreds of meters beyond. The noise and light show was enough to cause the war-weary motorists on the lane ahead of the convoy to stop short and duck their heads.
“Damn it!” Buttrick raged. “Tell them to hold fire. There goes our roadblock.”
Before the sergeant was able to key the message, Delta 44 broke to the left. Inspired by the success of the assassin’s jump and intent on maintaining the pursuit, the young soldier driving the lead chase vehicle drove head-on into the concrete barrier. Buttrick muttered a disbelieving oath as the Humvee lofted over the divider and touched down successfully.
The sergeant sent out a frantic call to the forces deploying near the bridge to abandon that location. Meanwhile, the assassin’s vehicle kicked up a column of dust as it continued across an open field toward an obvious destination, the rail yard, with the daredevil soldier in the lead Humvee close behind.
The driver of the second Humvee — D-43—seemed less enthusiastic about making the airborne transition across the opposite lanes and off of the highway, but he knew what had to be done and did not ease off of the accelerator once committed to the jump. Buttrick began swinging to the far right of the road in order to begin his approach along the same path.
Delta 43 cleared the barricade easily, but as the rear tires hit the short wall, there was an audible snapping noise. One of the struts on the right rear wheel broke, causing it to cant outward at a forty-five degree angle. As the rear tires banged down on the pavement, the wheel on the right was no longer supplying power in a straight line. The back end turned an impossibly tight circle, pivoting on the undamaged left wheel and spun around beneath the still elevated front end. The Humvee corkscrewed in the middle of the highway and flipped onto its back with a sickening crunch.
At that instant, unaware of the second vehicle’s demise, Buttrick began his charge toward the barricade. Like the three others before, the last Humvee in the column hit the concrete divider and launched skyward. The jump was flawless, but the wreck of the D-43 lay like a turtle on its back directly in his landing zone. Because there was nothing else to do, Buttrick held the steering wheel steady as they crashed down toward its exposed underbelly.
Delta 43 was still turning counter-clockwise circles on the macadam as D-46 dropped from the sky. The two vehicles almost missed each other. Half a second earlier or later and the two Humvees would have been parallel. Instead, the left side of Buttrick’s vehicle caught the outstretched front end of D-43 as it swung around through another revolution. Delta 46 tilted sharply to the right and when the wheels on that side made contact with the pavement, the angle was enough to pull the Humvee over.
Kismet had planted his feet squarely on the floorboards and gripped either side of the driver’s backrest in anticipation of the jump, but nothing had prepared him for the violence of the landing. As Delta 46 began its roll, the doors flew open and Colonel Buttrick, overwhelmed by centrifugal force, was ripped from his seat as the Humvee rolled onto its right side. The roll continued, and the twisting Humvee moved forward and sideways at the same time, missing the stunned officer by a mere inches. An instant later, the open doors were crushed as it turned onto its left side. Kismet felt the almost irresistible tug of G-forces wrenching him toward the opening, and for a heartbeat, he saw nothing but dusty pavement. His grip failed and he slammed face first onto the roadway as the vehicle turned again, coming to a rest on its tires.
Kismet lay stunned for a long moment before daring to open his eyes. He instinctively struggled to his knees, and was mildly surprised that his body complied with only a minimum of complaint. Despite the initial violence of the wreck, he had managed to remain in the protective confines of the Humvee until most of its energy was expended. The force with which he had hit the roadway was no worse than tripping and falling onto a hard surface.
No better either, he thought darkly as he pushed to his feet.
A few steps away, Buttrick and the sergeant were also coming around. A figure in combat camouflage snaked from the overturned D-43 and hurried over to assist their fallen comrades. Though shaken, the soldiers inside that Humvee appeared to be uninjured. Kismet absently wondered if they had been foresighted enough to buckle their seatbelts before engaging in the ludicrous pursuit. No one in Buttrick’s vehicle had taken that precaution, and to a man they had been yanked from their seats.
Delta 46 sat idle a few meters away.
Kismet stared at the crumpled, but relatively intact Humvee as though trying to divine its purpose. The engine had evidently stalled, but for all the outward damage — the missing doors and crushed fender panels — the vehicle appeared operational.
Still trying to determine the significance of the Humvee’s presence, Kismet saw movement in the corner of his eye and looked out across the field. Beyond the second concrete barricade, the stolen resupply vehicle was struggling to maintain its lead. Its left rear tire — perforated by a few lucky shots from Bravo 25’s machine gun — was coming apart. Huge chunks of black rubber were thrown out in its wake, directly in the path of the remaining chase vehicle. Though the Humvee was equipped with a run-flat rim, essentially a hard rubber tire inside the inflated outer tire, which allowed it to remain operational in exactly such a circumstance, the reduced wheel diameter cut its top speed nearly in half, especially on the loose sandy surface. Delta 44 was going to win the chase.