CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

For once, the roaring engines of powerful vehicles drowned out the crazy fusillade of lead that erupted across the three-lane interstate. Drake didn’t flinch as bullets pinged off the Humvee’s windshield and frame, trusting the upgrade kits to protect the armored vehicle. Hayden switched to the left, aiming to put one of the SUVs between her and the truck. Dahl was already past an SUV and fast approaching the eighteen-wheeler, sparks flashing off his vehicle like a Disney fireworks show.

The F150 loomed outside Alicia’s part of the windshield.

“Can’t get too much of a good thing.” The Englishwoman cracked her window, aimed her gun, and fired. A man twisted and collapsed into the flatbed, his gun flying through the air and clattering down the highway. A bullet somehow managed to fizz in through Alicia’s open window, thudding into her headrest.

Alicia whistled. “Nice shot. Wow, you know, Drakey, I miss this.”

Drake swerved. A police chopper thundered overhead. His rearview filled with the flashing blue lights of the speeding cop cars Gates had requested, some of them clearly modified as they began to catch up. He gasped as he saw Dahl’s Humvee dart to and fro behind the Mack truck. The bad guys were leaning out of the truck’s rear hold, trying to bring a rocket launcher to bear on the Swede’s transport.

A terrible hiss signaled that the weapon had discharged early. The missile impacted against the road near Dahl’s passenger-side wheel and skipped away, exploding against a barrier that ran along the verge. From above Drake came the sound of rapid gunfire. Bullets rattled against the truck, taking out one of the men in the back. The police chopper dove in low, passing right over Drake’s windshield, so close he could almost have stood up in his seat and grabbed one if its skids through his window. The helicopter veered slowly in mid-air as its occupants continued firing. Dahl’s Humvee squealed out of the way, itself strafed by errant gunfire.

The truck started a crazy swerve, a slow motion snaking of machinery so heavy its rear seemed to take forever to catch up to its front end. The cab flew into the right-hand lane, the trailer sliced across the other two. The chopper cut sharply left, chasing the wide-open back doors.

A sizzling explosion and a smoke trail burst from the back of the truck. The chopper shuddered as the rocket blasted against its side, veering wildly and losing altitude fast. One of the cops inside fell through the open door, only to save himself by grabbing a skid on his way down.

Alicia held her breath.

The chopper came down fast, the pilot trying desperately to keep it under control as fire licked its tail boom and rotor. The main rotor struggled to carry the damaged chopper, its tail fins hitting the interstate first and crumbling under the impact.

The body of the chopper came down hard. Men leapt out any way they could. The cop who was hugging the landing skid hauled himself around and began a slow, lumbering run toward the median. As Alicia watched in the rear-view mirror, the following convoy of cop cars had reached their brethren and was stopping to tend to them. Three big vehicles powered on through.

The eighteen-wheeler slewed back into the middle lane, its occupants flung to the sides, somehow managing to stay inside the rear container by grabbing at the many ropes and ratchet straps that whipped and thrashed around. Drake gave a tight smile when he saw the RPG launcher clatter onto the road and bounce away.

They all passed a civilian vehicle on the inside, the lone businessman staring in astonishment. Drake started to thank their lucky stars Kingston and his cronies had set out so early, keeping civilian road traffic to a minimum, then realized it would’ve been even better if he’d been planning to set off about thirty minutes later. They’d have caught up to him back at his house. He’d assaulted enough houses, ranches and compounds in the last few months to rate his chances pretty highly.

Hayden was shouting across the airwaves, something about civilians being their priority, a point so obvious even Alicia rolled her eyes.

Then men stood up in the bed of the F150 and began lobbing hand grenades down the highway.

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