Charlie gave her an insipid smile through the car window. She got a rifle and ammunition out of the trunk, moved over a fence into tree cover, and waited.
The cop in Kerney would force him to stop and investigate.
Taking him out would be another enjoyable hit. But the prospect of whacking Sara Brannon made Applewhite break into a big smile.
Bobby Sloan saw the helicopter land on the pavement and went cross-country through the trees to get around it. He caught a glimpse of the pilot watching him and talking rapidly into his headset as he bounced by. He ground the Bronco through a snowbank to get back on the road and the front wheels bottomed out in a ditch. He slammed the gearbox into reverse and the back tires screamed as he inched his way out.
Just as the rear wheels gripped solid, Sloan heard the chopper. He geared into low, took the ditch at an angle, and spun rubber down the road. Before he could make the curve, the chopper dropped down sideways in front of him. The door on the chopper slid open, and the windshield exploded in Sloan's face as he took fire.
He felt a nick on his neck as he gunned the Bronco back into the trees.
The back window blew out and he could hear rounds slamming into the tailgate. He redlined the engine, bounced off a tree, topped a rise, and barreled down to the highway.
He could see Applewhite's car in the distance and the tiny outline of a vehicle coming from the opposite direction.
He downshifted and waited for the chopper to come at him again. Cold air whistled through the vehicle, freezing his face as he punched the accelerator. He felt tired, woozy, unable to focus. He looked down and saw his blood-soaked shirt. He put his hand up to his neck and felt wet spurts as his heart pumped his arteries empty.
Realizing he was a dead man, he tried to squeeze the wound closed anyway. His foot found the brake and the Bronco did a quick three-sixty before tilting on its side and spinning into a tree. Just before impact Bobby Sloan passed out.
Kerney saw the stranded car two hundred yards ahead and slowed. He touched the brake, scanned the vehicle for damage, and couldn't see any.
"What do you think?" he asked Sara.
"I can't tell from here."
He caught a flash of light at the edge of some trees off the south side of the road. He touched the brake again.
"I saw it," Sara said, opening the glove box. She grabbed Kerney's 38, checked the rounds in the cylinder, and emptied a box of ammunition in her coat pocket.
"Do you think it's a setup?"
Kerney unsnapped his holster.
"It may be nothing."
He upshifted, and tried to look inside the car. The raised hood obstructed his view. It was a late-model four-door Ford, just like the one Charlie Perry had been driving. His misgivings jumped ten notches.
"Get down," he snapped.
"I'm going to ram it."
He gunned the engine, drove off the road, and hit the Ford at a slant.
Airbags filled the cab, rounds blew holes in the passenger window and deflated them. He hit the gas pedal hard. Metal crinkled and snapped as he slammed the Ford further off the road. The truck lurched to a stop and Sara followed him out the driver's door and crouched with him behind the protection of a tire.
Rounds peppered the Ford, shattering glass. Kerney took a quick look inside and saw a body slumped awkwardly in the driver's seat.
Blood splatter stained the windshield. He sneaked another look at the trees, took fire, and spotted the shooter's position.
"There's a dead man in the car. The shooter is south of us, in the trees, half a click to the left about ten yards in. Look for the tree with the broken branch."
Sara got a fix on the location.
"Give me covering fire," she said.
"I'll go."
"You can't run that fast, Kerney." She moved away before he could stop her, snaking her way back to the truck.
Kerney followed her, ducked behind the open truck door, reached up, and cut away the deflated airbag from the steering wheel with a pocket knife.
"What are you doing?"
"I can drive faster than you can run," he said.
"You cover me." He pulled out spare magazines and stuffed them in his back pocket.
"We both go," Sara said.
Kerney looked at her hard, ready to argue.
"We don't have time for this, Kerney," Sara snapped.
"Take the right flank."
"Okay." He levered the driver seat back as far as it would go, crawled into it with his head below the windshield, and geared the engine into reverse.
"Ready?"
Sara nodded and moved back to the car. A bullet took out another window in the Ford. Kerney hit the accelerator, raised up, spun the wheel, and headed for the wire stock fence, firing out the driver's-side window in the direction of the trees.
Sara ran zigzag around the trunk of the car to the fence line. Rounds dug into the snow inches away from her. Kerney rammed his way through the fence. Sara crawled under the wire, firing as she went. She got up and started running in a low crouch.
Kerney closed on the sniper's position. The front wheels dipped into a trench and the driver's-side mirror blew apart. He wheeled the truck, hit the brakes, and heard bullets dig into steel. He bailed out, looking for Sara. He saw only her tracks in the snow. He called to her and got no answer. He slammed in a fresh magazine, crawled under the truck, and scanned for any sight of her. A single rifle shot rang out.
"Sara," Kerney yelled.
He saw her rise up out of the trench a hundred feet away and start running for a tree. He emptied the magazine at the sniper and loaded another clip. Sara made it to cover and pointed at the tree closest to Kerney. She pulled off two rounds and kept firing while Kerney sprinted forward.
He slid headfirst behind the. tree, emptied the magazine at the shooters position, fed in another clip, and looked at Sara. She patted her chest and pointed ahead, signaling her next move. Kerney shook his head and watched helplessly as she reloaded and crawled away from cover. He pumped rounds and watched as she disappeared from sight into the grove.
Everything got quiet. The tree with the broken branch was dead ahead.
He looked for movement. Every muscle in his body tensed as he searched for a hard target.
"It's clear," Sara called.
Kerney stayed zeroed in on the tree until Sara stepped out and waved him in. He found her standing over Applewhite's body. There was a bullet hole in her leg, but the killing shot had come from the rifle Applewhite had stuck in her mouth.
"Meet Elaine Cornell," Sara said.
"She was hard core to the end. Let's get out of here."
They drove back to the Ford. The man in the front seat was Charlie Perry. He had a nasty hole in his left temple.
"So that's Charlie Perry," Sara said.
"What's he doing here?"
"I think he was supposed to play patsy," Kerney said.
She reached inside the shattered car window, grabbed the microphone, and keyed it.
"Listen up, you bastards," she said.
"Elaine Cornell is dead, Agent Perry is dead. If you want more, bring it on."
She smiled sweetly at the incredulous look on Kerney's face and tossed the microphone inside the car. A helicopter came out of the forest and veered away. Sara's cell phone rang. She dug it out of an inside pocket.
"Maybe they're calling in their regrets," Kerney said.
"Let's hope so."
Kerney waited impatiently, watched the chopper until it moved over the Zuni Mountains, then gave the truck a quick look-over. The bumper was crumpled, a headlight shattered, and the grill was pushed in. There were scratches on the hood and bullet holes in a front fender, door, and window.
"I've been ordered back to Fort Leavenworth," Sara said with amusement.