Sharp Shot. Justin Richards
so was the passenger.
The voice in Rich’s ear was hard to hear. Jade was hissing at him, asking who it was.
“Voicemail. From Dex Halford,” Rich told her. “He must have got my text.”
“You sent him a text?”
“Don’t call him back,” said McCain. “They may be homing in on your phone. Maybe that’s how they found us.”
“Can they do that?” asked Jade.
“Oy!” Rich shouted. He’d listened to the whole message and heard almost none of it. He played it through again. The signal was bad, it kept breaking up. His battery bleeped a warning.
“It’s Dex, I got your text, but…except to voicemail. So I hope you get this. McCain’s a good guy; you’ll be OK with him. Different story…Darrow, but never mind that. I’ll get on to Ardman, send…Leave your phone on and we can…Got to go—that’s my other phone ringing. Good luck!”
“He’s getting on to Ardman to send help,” Rich told them.
“How will Ardman find us?” asked Jade.
The BMW roared up close, and McCain weaved the Range Rover across the narrow village street. He took a corner too fast, clipping a parked car. The BMW slowed, allowing them to draw clear again.
“He said to leave my phone on. I guess they can trace it too,” said Rich.
They were leaving the village. There were two dark BMWs behind them now, but no sign of the Mercedes.
“Can we keep ahead of them, at least till help arrives?” Jade asked.
“How long will that be?” asked McCain. “We don’t have a lot of fuel.”
“And my phone doesn’t have a lot of…” Rich’s phone beeped again. The display faded and died.
“Oh great,” said Jade. “Now they’ll never find us.”
“So we have to get away from these jokers on our own,” said McCain. “Let’s see if we can shake them off.”
The road ahead turned in a tight bend. McCain dropped down a gear and took the bend fast. Then he stamped hard on the brake.
Hovering above the road in front of them, just a few feet off the ground and almost blocking the width of the lane, was a black helicopter. The side door was open, and a woman dressed in a dark trouser suit and wearing sunglasses leaned out. Her long, dark hair was blowing round her face, but she was utterly focused on what she was doing.
She was holding a rifle, and she was aiming it at the Range Rover skidding towards her, smoke rising from the protesting tyres.
Just as it seemed the Range Rover was screeching to a halt, McCain took his foot off the brake and floored the accelerator. The tyres spun on the roadway before starting to grip and the vehicle shot forwards— straight at the helicopter.
The woman with the rifle fired. Jade saw the flash from the muzzle. From the angle it looked like she’d been aiming for the tyres, hoping to disable the Range Rover so the men in the cars behind could catch them.
But the Range Rover’s change of speed had thrown out her aim and the bullet thumped harmlessly into the asphalt. The woman had no time for a second shot. The helicopter was so low over the road that the Range Rover was heading straight for it…
The pilot reacted quickly. The nose of the helicopter moved upwards. Grit and dirt was blown across the road by the updraft as the helicopter started to rise.
“Hold on!” shouted McCain, as the Range Rover continue to accelerate.
“We’re going to hit!” yelled Rich.
The windscreen exploded as the Range Rover slammed into one of the helicopter’s skids. McCain pushed the crazed glass out of the way and kept going. The Range Rover zig-zagged down the narrow lane, grazing a hedge and bumping over the verge before McCain got it under control again.
Jade turned to look out the back window. The helicopter was still trying to climb. But it was twisting awkwardly in the air, thrown off balance by the impact. It tilted too far to one side and the end of a rotor blade touched the surface of the road.
With a wrenching of metal, the blade was torn off and went spinning away. The helicopter fell like a stone, blocking the road. The woman in the dark suit and sunglasses struggled out of the side door, which was now at the top of the helicopter.
There was a distant squeal of brakes. Jade saw the woman knocked clear as the helicopter jolted with the impact of the BMW.
“Way to go!” yelled Rich as they took the next bend and the wreckage of the helicopter disappeared from sight.
“But where do we go?” asked Jade. “What if they’ve got another helicopter? These people are serious.”
“They certainly are,” said McCain. “I’m open to suggestions. We need somewhere we can lose ourselves, maybe in a crowd. Lots of people, and places we can’t be spotted from the air. Somewhere we can ditch this vehicle without it being too conspicuous.”
“With a broken windscreen?” said Rich. “Some hope.”
“Hey,” Jade realised. “We just came through Boscombe, didn’t we?”
There was a brown tourist attraction road sign coming up at the junction ahead of them. Jade had already guessed what it said. McCain slowed as they approached the turn.
Rich laughed. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Ideal,” McCain agreed.
The Range Rover turned into the road leading towards Boscombe Heights Adventure Park.
They had to wait in the car park for half an hour for the adventure park to open. But it gave them time to make use of the toilets in the car park—not least to have a quick wash and get some of the mud off their clothes and hands and faces. By the time they’d cleaned themselves up to look reasonably respectable, there was already a queue. But as it was a school day they didn’t have to wait long before McCain was paying for tickets and they were through the turnstiles and into Boscombe Heights
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.