32

ONCE THE DOG WAS safely on the floor, and Joe was on the open road, Yelena crept into the rear seat and, aiming carefully out the back, opened fire on the Russian and his gunman in the Benz. She knocked out the windshield and both headlights before the driver took evasive action and peeled off, dropping to the rear of the pack, leaving Cash right behind them and then Donna in her car behind him. Cash smiled at Yelena, as he held Donna back, and the Jeep moved further away. Then Yelena saw the Hummer pulling up alongside Donna, roaring along the shoulder, full speed, with a gunner now upright through the opening in the roof, aiming an AR-15. He carefully took out Donna’s tires, sending her skidding off the road. The Hummer’s driver muscled in on Cash in the Camaro, threatening to push him into oncoming traffic, while the gunner took a shot at Cash through the roof.

“Shit, that was close,” Cash called over the mic. “He’s trying to get through me to you. I’ll try to hold him back a little longer.”

It didn’t matter though. Riding high above the Camaro, the gunner was able to fire over Cash’s car and into the Jeep. Yelena hit the floor, hugging the dog, as bullets tore into the back seat and the rear panel.

“You okay?” Joe asked, still speeding forward.

“So far,” Yelena told him. “He hit the extra gas tank.” The plastic container of extra fuel strapped to the rear of the Jeep was now leaking dangerously.

“Better ditch it then,” Joe said, and reached under the passenger seat for the emergency kit. He pulled the flare gun out and handed it to her. “Give them this as well.”

“Right.”

The Hummer bucked against the Camaro, trying to brush Cash aside.

“Let them through, Cash,” Joe said over the mic. “And watch out. Yelena’s going to light them up.”

“Cool. I’m out,” Cash said, and swerved away, letting the Hummer pass. As it closed in on the Jeep, pulling in right behind them, Yelena rose up and threw the leaking gas canister. It thumped onto the windshield, gasoline spilling from the bullet holes. Immediately, she fired the flare, blasting it into the fuel can. It blew.

Like napalm, the gas caught, first the fumes from the ruptured container, then the liquid fuel splashing on the roof, and then, a split second later, the whole can. Instantly the hood of the Hummer was covered, as flames danced over the liquid, licking everywhere it spilled like tongues of blue and orange. The terrified gunner ducked back inside as the driver swerved, his windshield blind with flames. In a panic, he veered wildly, drove onto the shoulder, and banged into a tree, as they both bailed out of the truck.

Now it was just the Benz still trailing behind Yelena and Joe, and they had a decent lead. But there was trouble ahead. Juno had been monitoring the law’s frequencies from the rear of the truck and he warned Joe about a roadblock a mile ahead, at the last exit before they joined the main highway.

“Are you clear back there?” Joe asked.

“Yeah we’re like a quarter mile behind you,” Liam put in. “Normal traffic now. No cops.”

“Then we’ll come to you,” Joe said and made a hard left. Leaning on his horn, as on-coming cars honked and swayed around him, he cut the wheel, and skidded into a U-turn, then straightened out, and rejoined the flow, going the opposite way. The Russian stayed with him, repeating the move, as terrified drivers veered away, honking frantically. Joe stayed in the left lane, pushing as hard as he could, until he saw the truck on his left, coming toward them. Liam gave a quick wave. Then Joe did it again.

Cranking the wheel left, he cut across the double yellow, and swung into the traffic, which braked and honked and yelled, then gunned it and re-joined the flow, now a few dozen yards behind the truck. This time the Russian took a beat longer, but soon he was there again, behind them.

“Okay,” Joe said over the mic. “Same getaway plan as before but with a slight change. We’re going to have to keep moving.”

Liam kept the truck rolling steady while Josh, watching in his side mirror, waited for Joe to work his way up, passing other cars, and finally falling into place right behind them. “Ready,” Joe said, keeping about one car length back. Then Josh lowered the gate. The metal ramp came down on its hydraulics, and when the lip began to scrape along the asphalt, Juno flung the door up from inside. Joe slowly increased his speed, nosing the Jeep’s front wheels onto the ramp. The Russian, seeing what was happening, sped up too, bumping them from behind. Yelena fired a couple shots, brushing him back, while Joe gave it some gas, racing the motor, and drove up into the truck.

“Lift it!” he yelled over the mic, and Josh hit the power, bullets ringing off the metal gate as it came up, shielding them inside. The Russian was right behind them now.

“Need a gun?” Juno asked, as Joe and Yelena jumped out of the Jeep.

“Nope,” Joe said, “I got it,” and pulled his folding camp knife from his pocket. He began to slash at the plastic-wrapped bales of manure stacked along one side of the truck. “Help me lift it,” he said, and Juno and Yelena came to his aid. “Time to unload this shit.”

Together they hoisted the bale over the gate and it dumped onto the hood of the Russian’s Benz, where it burst open, spilling an avalanche of manure over the hood and through the blown-out windshield. The driver and passenger tried to brush it away, but another bale followed, burying them. Unable to see, and with fertilizer blowing around them like a small brown hurricane, the driver pulled onto the shoulder and stopped. His passenger, the guy in the ponytail, leapt from the car and tried to take a shot, but the truck was gone in the flow of traffic.

Juno and Joe lowered the door. A few minutes later, the truck had slowed to a crawl, as they reached the roadblock, were waved on by bored state troopers, and made their way to the Lincoln Tunnel.

Meanwhile Toomey, who had proceeded to the Wildwater container with no problems, selected the items on his pickup list, loaded them into his own Jeep, and left. By the time he reached the exit, the excitement was all over, and he proceeded on his way without impediment. He was a little annoyed at all the backed-up traffic; after all, he had a schedule to keep.