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.
Gamay turned toward the partition, aimed the gun at the dashboard, and fired. The bullet exploded into a thousand fragments, as it was designed to do, much of the force mushrooming and rebounding back into Ridley’s face and eyes.
As Ridley reacted in shock, clutching at his face, Gamay reached through the gap, snagged the wheel, and wrenched it over to the right side. The van pulled hard, hitting the wall of snow and then grinding along it until it stalled out and stopped.
Gamay was tossed around in the back, hitting her head and bruising her knee somehow.
Stunned but conscious, she looked up. The airbag had gone off, protecting and trapping Ridley for the moment.
She looked out the open back of the van.
The lights of the Chinese car were coming around the turn.
She jumped out and ducked around to the side.
She had a few seconds to run for it, but that would leave Ridley in their clutches.
With nowhere to hide, she dropped down and crawled under the van, pulling her feet in, just as the lights of the Chinese car settled on them.
The pursuit car came to a stop. The doors opened and three men climbed out. They remained behind the open doors for a moment and then spread out in a tactical formation, moving cautiously toward the wrecked van.
Gamay could see only their legs, but she had no doubt they were armed.
Three bullets, three targets, she thought. She would have preferred more of the former or less of the latter, especially as that didn’t leave her any way to deal with the driver if he joined the fight, but it was better than nothing.
As the men neared the van, a drop of hot oil dripped on her hand. She stifled a grunt and shoved her hand into the snow.
She inched to the side to avoid any more scalding drips and turned her attention back to the approaching gunmen. She wanted to wait as long as possible. She knew Kurt, Joe, and Paul would get there soon, but she couldn’t wait for them to surround her.
Focusing on the leader’s boots, she aimed and pulled the trigger. The pistol sounded like a cannon shot beneath the van, and Gamay’s ears rang with the blast.
She saw a cloud of red as the man’s foot exploded with the impact. She turned to fire at the next target, but the men were running for cover. She saved her ammo.
They dropped in behind the doors of their car and opened fire at the van from both sides.
Gamay cringed at the sound of the automatic weapons in full throat, but so far they hadn’t realized where she was.
The wounded man figured it out as he slid himself back toward the car.
“She’s under the van.”
One of the men dropped down to look. Gamay fired at him, but the bullet hit the bumper and disintegrated.
She fired again, hitting his leg. The man tumbled to the ground.
He landed in the snow and ice and looked right at her.
She pushed backward, trying to get out of the line of fire as he brought his weapon around.
She saw the barrel pointing her way and closed her eyes.
A thunderous crash echoed before the gun was discharged. The Big Orange Rig had rammed the Chinese car from behind, pushing it into the ice wall beside it. The impact caused an avalanche as a ten-foot cap of snow slid down from the hill above the road.
It blocked her view instantly, filling the gaps between the cars and then piling onto the roofs of each vehicle.
Gamay had backed toward the hill, but there was no escape that way.
She crawled forward now, scrambling to the open side of the van as the weight of the snow compressed its springs and shocks.
Her jacket caught on the underside of the transmission.
She wriggled free of it and kept going. Reaching the far side, she tried to squirm out from underneath it, but she’d only made it halfway out when the bodywork pressed into her back.
This time she shouted with everything she had. Snow began piling up around her face. She tried to push it free, but was suddenly buried in darkness.