Veil of Civility

Chapter Seventeen

Having been given a ride back to his truck by Asher Harel's security detail, Declan stepped into the vehicle and started the ignition. Backing out of the parking space and driving through the sparsely populated lot, he stopped at the front gate and paid the attendant. Driving around the perimeter of the property to get back to the interstate that would take him home, he watched as several planes took off and disappeared into the dark sky, engines roaring.

A few minutes later he passed the expansive campus of Liberty University. To his left he could see the remains of the C.H. Barton Center for International Relations and Politics, the entrance to its rectangular parking lot blocked by a row of Jersey barriers. In the low light provided by the street lamps he could see that the front of the building had been nearly torn off by the bomb blast. All that remained of the once magnificent architecture were two of the four front columns, which still stood erect but now held nothing, and the statue of Thomas Jefferson, which had somehow escaped any serious damage, the shrubbery around it burned away by a fire that was still smoldering despite the seasonal rainfall. In the grassy area on the left side of the building's entrance was an immense crater, roped off by orange cones and police warning tape. Two white sedans marked with police emblems were parked side by side in the lot, the drivers obviously having a conversation as they watched the area for anyone attempting to get close, whether for pictures or any other reason.

Looking at the two vehicles Declan thought about what he'd seen as he and Constance had left the building the previous night. He was certain it had been one of the security vehicles that had exploded and that the size of the blast meant a bomb too big to have been placed outside of the vehicle. Being familiar with similar devices he knew that for the explosion to have done the damage it did, the bomb had to have been located in the trunk and had probably been manufactured using several hundred pounds of ammonium nitrate fertilizer. He mulled over several questions as he drove west on the four lane highway, but decided it was best to focus on something else. The only thing he could do, though he wished he could do more, was tell the truth about what he'd seen and let the men and women who dealt with these kinds of things for a living handle the rest. Hopefully they would handle it in time to stop any more attacks.

A shrill ring jarred his thoughts back to the present as the LED on his company cell phone, which he'd placed on the dashboard, lit up. Reaching for the phone and touching the screen, he brought the device to his ear and said, "Hello?"

"Hey," a sweet southern accent on the other end said.

Declan smiled at the sound of his wife. "Hi," he answered.

"I'm just calling to tell you that I made it home safely," she said, sounding tired. "It took a while. There was a wreck on interstate eighty-one."

"Eighty-one," he said. "Why did you take eighty-one? You should have used route eleven."

"I did," she said intently. "The wreck on the interstate caused eleven to back up, too. I had to sit through every stoplight like, three times. It took forever."

"Okay, okay," he said in submission, although he was confident that, had he been there, he could've found a side street that would have gotten them through and had them home in half the time. "You sound tired. You should get some sleep."

"What time are you going to be home?"

"I'm on my way now. I should be there in forty-five minutes, an hour at the most. Get some rest."

"Declan, it's just — I don't know, never mind."

He knew what she was getting at. She had never seen or experienced anything like this before. Raised in the mountains of western North Carolina, she had never seen the aftermath of car bombs and sectarian murders. He felt bad, as though it was his fault she had to witness it at all. It was his past that had brought her into contact with such things. Where he'd grown up, bombings had been an almost daily occurrence and a lot of times there just weren't words to express the associated feelings.

"I know," he said softly. "You've never seen anything like this before. I'm sorry you had to see it at all, but the best thing we can do is get on with our lives and put some distance between us and what happened last night. I know it sounds cold, but that's all we can do."

He listened as she sniffed away tears. "But what about his family, how do they move on? What do they do now?"

"The Kafnis have lived with events like this for a long time. Zeva is a strong woman, and she will lead her family on," he said tentatively, as he searched for the right words to comfort her. "Get some rest. I'll be home soon. I'm passing Bedford so I'm about halfway."

He glanced into the rearview mirror as he passed an exit that led to the one horse town of Bedford, Virginia. The two lanes of road behind him were empty of cars, the afternoon commute to Lynchburg's outer areas having ended nearly two hours earlier. As he rounded a sharp left turn he saw a vehicle in the parking lot of a long-closed restaurant on the right hand side of the road near a rundown garage. Instinctively, he moved his foot to the brake and held his breath. The triangular-shaped area full of tall shrubbery where the road went from a widely-divided four lane highway to four lanes separated only by a narrow median strip was a well-known speed trap often used by state and local police. He clicked his tongue as the white SUV's headlights came on as he passed, briefly bathing the interior of his truck in an incandescent light. Passing a large speed limit sign reading forty-five, he looked down at the speedometer. He was traveling at just over sixty miles an hour and knew that he was as good as caught if the vehicle in the lot had been a police officer.

"Are you alright?" Constance asked.

"Yeah," he said, distracted as he watched the rearview mirror for any signs of lights or of the vehicle leaving the lot. He breathed a little easier as he saw nothing behind him. Maybe it had just been a stopped motorist. "Yeah, I'm here. I thought maybe I'd passed a cop, sorry."

"Be careful," she said. "You've already had to pay two tickets for Regan in the last three months since he's been traveling to Lynchburg."

"I know. Maybe they have a three for two deal going on," he said flatly.

"Funny."

Declan glanced upwards again into the rearview mirror and caught sight of a vehicle behind him. Looking again, he realized it was the white SUV and that it was approaching fast without its headlights on. "Let me call you back," he said. "I'm about to lose service as the towers switch over."

He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the dashboard as he looked down at the speedometer again. He was traveling at fifty miles an hour and the vehicle behind him was gaining fast. Was it a police officer? If so why weren't there any lights on? A bad feeling crept up his spine as he watched the black grille guard on the front of the vehicle growing closer in the darkness behind him.

Placing both his hands on the steering wheel, he pressed the accelerator and the work truck's diesel engine rumbled as it dispelled a thick plume of black smoke from the tailpipe. "Fifty-five," he said to himself as he glanced between the speedometer and the rearview mirror, "sixty, sixty-five." Still the white SUV was gaining on him at an incredible pace. Suddenly the vehicle's driver turned the headlights on high and flooded Declan's mirrors with a blinding light. Squinting, he braced himself for what he knew was about to happen.

The impact with the rear bumper of his truck jerked him forwards and then quickly backwards again. He pressed the accelerator to the floor and watched as the needle climbed on the speedometer. From behind him he could hear a high growl from the white SUV as its driver revved the engine and again shot forward.

He braced himself against the back of the seat for the impact this time and kept a tight hold on the wheel as the truck was pushed forward. The engine of the SUV behind him whined as its driver kept the accelerator pressed to the floor, pushing the black grille guard against the back of Declan's truck. Sparks from the metal on metal impact shot into the dark night above the vehicles and a metallic screech filled the air. Suddenly the other driver backed off and Declan felt the truck lurch again as the pressure from behind ceased. What was going on here? Who was in the SUV and why were they attacking him? The image of Baktayev or one of his men behind the wheel flashed through his mind. Was this Ruslan Baktayev's revenge for the death of his brother in ninety-seven? With Abaddon Kafni dead, was Declan next on the Chechen's hit list?

The white SUV revved its engine again and shot forward, this time pulling to the left into the fast lane. Quickly changing lanes, Declan blocked the vehicle's attempt to side swipe him and took the impact in the rear. More sparks flew as the vehicles ground against each other.

Antiquated two story homes flew by along either side of the two lane highway as he reached the ninety-four mile per hour limit on the diesel engine. The needle on the speedometer bumped against the small dash mark just before the bold number ninety-five on the speedometer and refused to go higher. The SUV backed off again and changed lanes as the engine revved up, propelling the vehicle forward and onto the right side of Declan's truck. The driver swerved towards the utility bed.

Declan steered into the impact in an attempt to keep control of the vehicle. Locked together in a metal on metal duel, sparks flew from the wheel well of his truck as the SUV's grille guard pushed against it. Knowing he couldn't outrun them, his mind raced for another way out. Remembering a section of road ahead where the four lane highway was divided by a steep, rocky hill, he began to form a plan. If he could keep control of his truck long enough to make it to that area, which couldn't be more than a mile ahead of him, then he could hit the brakes and make a quick left onto a dirt road that he'd seen many times as he'd driven home. He didn't know what was down the road or how far it went, but if he could trick the driver of the white SUV into passing him as he took the turn, he might be able to get away.

He pulled the steering wheel hard to the right, pushing back against the attacking vehicle. The SUV backed off again and Declan pulled the wheel left to avoid overturning. The driver's side wheels of the truck left the pavement as he overcorrected, dust and gravel flying as the tires skidded over the unpaved shoulder of the road. Steering right again, the truck weaved back on to the pavement with a thud and he corrected again, this time bringing the vehicle back into the fast lane and continuing forward.

The SUV hit him again from behind before skidding back into the right lane and coming around for another sideswipe. Declan hit the brakes suddenly and the SUV flew past him as his wheels locked up and skidded loudly against the pavement, the smell of burning rubber filling the air. Taking his foot off the brake and pressing the accelerator, the truck continued forward with a begrudging rumble.

He looked ahead towards the SUV. Suddenly a head popped out of the passenger's side of the vehicle, followed by a torso and an arm holding a semi-automatic pistol. Several loud pops sounded as the man sat on the edge of the door and aimed his weapon backwards over the top of the SUV. The windshield of Declan's truck splintered and the back window exploded, covering Declan in chunks of green tinted glass. Keeping his hands on the steering wheel, he ducked low and kept his foot on the accelerator, speeding towards the SUV.

He rammed the vehicle from behind and pushed it forward, the impact causing the gunman hanging out of the window to lurch and nearly fall out. Gripping onto the side view mirror, the man lowered himself back into the SUV as the driver pressed the accelerator and pulled away.

Declan saw the median beginning to broaden to his left. Looking ahead through the cracked windshield he could see the hill separating the eastbound and westbound lanes of the road about a hundred yards away. The SUV shot forward ahead of him as the driver attempted to put distance between them. Were they running away now? Had the attack become a chase? He had no desire to catch them; he just wanted to get off the road and out of the truck where he could get a better idea of the forces arrayed against him and see exactly who they were. If they moved on and didn't come back in search of him, that would be fine too.

Still traveling at high speed, he watched as the SUV disappeared around a sharp right hand curve that led around the hill. He pressed the brake and slowed down as the dirt road on the left side approached. Pulling off the pavement, the truck bounced hard as it hit a long pothole and started down a steep hill. Instantly he knew he'd been moving too fast to attempt the turn. He steered furiously trying to keep control. As he pulled the wheel hard to the left, the truck's back end skidded around and he felt the vehicle's tremendous weight shift, but he was too late to correct it. Momentum carried the truck over and he braced himself as it rolled.

He crashed hard against the roof and then again against the driver's side door as the truck continued to roll. He felt his head strike the side window repeatedly as he bounced up and down in the seat involuntarily, his body at the mercy of the rapidly changing gravity in the cab of the truck.

The truck stopped rolling with a sudden impact and he felt his torso push hard against the safety belt as gravity continued trying to move him at the former speed of the now still vehicle. Pain shot through his body as it relaxed in the seat. The sound of crushing metal and breaking glass gave way to the stillness of a country night, crickets chirping in the trees surrounding the dirt road. Opening his eyes and breathing heavily, he coughed as dust invaded his lungs. He realized he was upside down and being held to the driver's seat by the safety belt around his waist. His legs hung loosely against the underside of the dashboard and his head throbbed above his left temple where it had impacted with the now broken driver's side window. With painful trepidation he moved his head and looked around the cab as he mentally took stock of his body. He could move his legs and arms and didn't feel any broken bones. Raising his right arm above his head, he reached towards his waist with the left and pressed the orange button on the safety belt, releasing it. With a thud, he fell onto the roof of the overturned truck and lay still, trying to absorb the impact, his legs now sprawled across the passenger side of the vehicle and his left arm caught in the safety belt. Pulling his arm loose, he turned over onto his stomach and crawled towards the broken window.

Wrenching himself free of the truck, he rolled onto his back and grimaced as he brushed pieces of glass off his forearms, leaving bloody dots in their wake. Slowly he raised himself to a sitting position and looked around. He was in an oval-shaped lot just a few yards off the dirt road and was surrounded by construction machinery. Placing a hand flat onto the ground, he pushed himself up onto his feet looking around for any signs of the white SUV or the men who had been in it. He was alone.

Standing still for a second he tested both legs to see if they would hold his weight and was glad to find that he was uninjured, with the exception of the throbbing above his left temple. He placed the fingers of his left hand on the sore spot expecting to find blood and was relieved when there was none. Walking slowly around the front of the truck he noticed that it had come to a stop against a yellow bulldozer bearing the logo of the Virginia Department of Transportation. So that's what this place is, he thought, a storage area for VDOT equipment.

At least one good thing had come of the situation. He could now cross this road off his mental list of places he'd always been curious about. Bending over and placing his hands on his knees, he took a deep breath and squatted several times to work out the kinks he felt in his muscles. He needed to find a way home and that would mean walking to one of the houses that peppered both sides of the highway.

Dropping to one knee, he leaned over to look inside the truck for his cell phone; in addition to finding a way home, he needed to call the police. The sound of an approaching vehicle reached his ears and he stood upright again, looking in the direction of the noise. A set of headlights pierced the darkness to the west of his position and he stood still, hoping it was just a random motorist, but as the vehicle slowed and made a left hand turn, he knew it wasn't.

Forgetting about his phone, he moved quickly away from the edge of the storage lot and into the center of the construction machinery where he ducked and weaved his way through the mud-covered equipment looking for a place to hide. As he reached the end of the lot he spotted a large rock formation sticking out of the ground and ran towards it. Behind the rock, the terrain dropped suddenly and he could see the eastbound lane of the highway below him. He carefully climbed onto the rock and lowered himself into a prone position as the sounds of gravel crunching under tires grew closer.

The approaching vehicle bumped over the one lane dirt road adjacent to the lot and there was an audible squeak as its weight shifted on its axles. When it came to a stop ten feet from his truck, Declan could see that it was the white SUV that had attacked him. The sound of the passenger's window coming down preceded the bright beam of a flashlight that was shone on the overturned wreck. The door opened and a man got out, his large frame silhouetted behind the flashlight beam as he moved cautiously towards the truck.

"There's no one here," the man said in a gruff, unaccented voice as he bent down and looked into the cab of the truck.

"We've got to find him!" a voice called from inside the vehicle. "They want this guy dead or we don't get paid!"