The Chinese gunman raised a hand against a two-thousand-watt glare. Squinting and firing blind, he pulled the trigger again. These shots went wide and low, kicking up dirt and slush, but little else.
The man held on as the car whipped around the next turn. For a second it was broadside to the NUMA vehicle. The man took advantage of a brief respite from the blinding light and fired at the big, orange target.
Slugs plunking the sheet metal made a dull tin-like sound. No one was injured, but a light on the dashboard said they were losing air from a tire. Joe pressed a button, and a self-sealing gel was releasedinside the tire. It would foam up and fill the gap, but the pressure was still down.
“Took a hit to the right front,” Joe said.
“How bad?” Kurt asked.
“The puncture should be sealed, but we’ve lost some air and we’re going to lose some speed. Can’t go full out in the turns with a damaged side wall. So much for the energy-transfer plan.”
“We have to keep going,” Paul said.
“We will,” Kurt replied. “But we should take it slower.”
“How much slower?” Joe asked.
Kurt didn’t hesitate. “Let’s just say it would be nice to travel in parallel formation with them for a moment.”
Joe looked back. Kurt was opening the observation cupola at the back end of the rig. As the hatch flipped open, a blast of frigid air poured in, and the grinding sound of the tires doubled in intensity. With another quick glance, Joe noticed something in Kurt’s hands as he climbed up the ladder that would allow him to look out over the top of the rig.
“I think I know what you have in mind,” Joe said.
Joe took the next turn more carefully, dropping back farther. It required some guesswork because they didn’t know the exact layout of the road, but Joe made the next turn exactly a half lap behind the Chinese car. They were now traveling in the same direction at the same time, with the Chinese slightly ahead and a hundred feet above them.
Bracing himself against the fiberglass shell of the cupola, Kurt raised the bazooka-like tube he’d pulled from the storage crate. A lethal-looking, diamond-shaped arrowhead stuck out the front. The rocket-propelled spear was designed to be fired into ice from a distance, trailing two hundred yards of lightweight line out behind it.By Kurt’s estimation the distance to the Chinese car was half that. Adjusting for flight time he aimed a few degrees ahead of the car and calmly squeezed the handle.
A six-foot length of flame shot out the back end of the tube. The diamond-shaped arrowhead accelerated outward toward the target. Kurt had detached most of the rope, leaving only a short length to act like the feathers on a dart. The rocket tracked perfectly, the fire and smoke of its path merging with the Chinese car near the end of the next straightaway.
At three hundred miles an hour, it plunged into the sheet metal just ahead of the passenger door, splitting the engine block, rupturing a fuel line, and causing a small explosion. The car was pushed left with the impact. It went into a skid, sliding off the road onto the icy shoulder and then over the side of the hill. It tumbled more than fell; the hill was steep but not a cliff. By chance it ended up on what was left of its wheels and continued rolling downward until it smashed into a boulder and came to a complete stop.
“Great shot,” Paul called out. “How many more of those do we have?”
“Unfortunately, that was the only one,” Kurt said, dropping back inside the rig and closing the cupola. “It’s back to plan A. If Joe can catch them.”
Joe pushed the rig as hard as he could, but as the road grew steeper, the weight of the rig became more and more burdensome. There was little they could do as the lights of the van, and the Chinese pursuer, slowly left them behind.
Chapter 36
Gamay could see down the hill each time the van turned. She could tell the cavalry was losing ground. She had four bullets left, but they were useless against the pursuing car.
She turned to Ridley. “Pull over!”
“Why?” he called back, sounding sick and exhausted. “What good would that do?”
“If we get them on foot I can shoot them,” Gamay told him. “But I can’t do anything while they’re hiding behind that glass.”
“Why are you helping me?” he shouted, nearly swerving off the road as he looked back through the partition.
“Because I need to know where that plane went down. And keeping you alive is the only way that’s going to happen. Now pull over.”
Ridley didn’t respond. He just turned his back on her and kept driving.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Gamay shouted. “This is your only chance.”
“I’d rather die,” he said.
Rounding the next turn, they were now on a straightaway with a wall of snow and ice to their right.
