The Protector

14

Never look at what you're trying to avoid. Always look at where you want the car to go. Cavanaugh's instructors had drilled that rule into him at the Bill Scott Raceway in West Virginia, where Global Protective Services and various intelligence agencies sent their operators for training in evasive driving.

"Why is it that, in many accidents, cars get hit directly on the side or the front, as if there wasn't any attempt to evade them?" Duncan had demanded from the passenger seat.

Cavanaugh hadn't been able to answer, too busy rounding a curve at 120 miles an hour.

"Why is it that if a driver hits a patch of ice and skids off the road, the only telephone pole for a hundred yards or the only tree in a field will be what that driver slams into square on?"

Again, Cavanaugh hadn't been able to answer, too busy feeling the hum and pulse of his car's tires, knowing that if the hum sounded any higher, if the pulse got any faster, his tires would lose their grip on the curve and he'd fly off the raceway.

Duncan had answered for him. "Because the driver looks at the car that veers in front of him, or the driver looks at the telephone pole at the side of the road, or the driver looks at the tree in the middle of the field, and although the driver wants to avoid them, he hits the damned things. Why does he hit them?"

"Because he looks at them," Cavanaugh had finally managed to answer, speeding out of the curve.

"Yes. You steer where your eyes lead you. If you look at what you're trying to avoid, you'll head in that direction."

Suddenly, a large cardboard box had hurtled across the track in front of Cavanaugh. Startled, he'd looked at it and almost steered toward it. With a flick of his eyes, he'd stared forward again and managed to remain on the track. His speeding car had veered only slightly as he passed where the box flew into a ditch. He thought he'd seen a rope on the box.

"Did somebody hide at the side of the track and yank that box across?" Cavanaugh had rushed into another curve.

"Eighty percent of the beginning students here see that box and follow it into the ditch," Duncan had replied. "So what's the lesson?"

"Look at where you want to go, not at what you're afraid you'll hit."

"Yes!"

Now Cavanaugh stared past the paralyzed woman toward rain splashing a puddle beyond her.

Don't move, lady.

Cavanaugh stepped on the brakes, feeling their pulses through the pedal, judging their increasing frequency. At what he estimated was 98 percent stopping power, he kept his foot steady. Any more pressure and the brakes would lock, making it impossible for him to control the direction of the sedan. But as long as the brakes weren't locked, he could steer the car while reducing speed.

He was so close to the paralyzed woman that he saw how huge the pupils of her eyes had become as he twisted the steering wheel to the right.

No! Don't look at her! Look at the rain in the puddle beyond her!

Cavanaugh felt the car threaten to slide out of control on the wet pavement. At once, the sedan shifted to the right the way he wanted. Continuing to stare toward where he wanted to go, toward the puddle, he twisted the steering wheel to the left now, veering around the woman, sensing her umbrella zip past him as his car reached the puddle and he released the brake.

For a heart-skipping moment, as Cavanaugh jerked his gaze up toward his rearview mirror, he feared that the pursuing car would hit her, but the near miss had broken the woman's paralysis. She raced toward cars at the side just before the black car sped past her, splashing water from a puddle, drenching her.

Wary of other pedestrians who might suddenly appear, Cavanaugh sped along the row heading toward the mall. He steered to the left, toward one of the mall's entrances, a group of glass doors beckoning on Prescott's side of the car.

"Prescott, open your door! We're bailing out!"

"But-"

"Do it!" Cavanaugh skidded to a stop in front of the doors. He grabbed the Sig and the.45. "Now!"

Behind him, he heard the black car speeding close as he and Prescott charged into the mall.