The Lexus abruptly braked. The pause lasted only a moment, but it was enough to let the Toyota shoot ahead, untouched.
“What the...”
“Were you trying to hit that guy?” a wide-eyed Martiel asked. He shook his head. “You can’t. This car has an automated accident avoidance system. Get too close to another vehicle, and the computer will put on the brakes.”
“Son of a bitch,” Tam snarled. That swear jar’s going to be overflowing by the time this was over. She disliked profanity—hearing it and using it. All her life, she had been surrounded by people, both growing up and in her counter-intelligence career, who used vulgar language with reckless abandon. Even though she thought it was cheap and demeaning, the habit had rubbed off on her. Now she was determined to hold herself to a higher standard. A dollar to the swear jar whenever she slipped up, and no excuses.
The other driver appeared to have given up on his original plan to run Martiel off the road and was now trying to get out of Dodge. “Is there a way to turn it off?”
“Turn it off?”
“Never mind,” Tam floored the accelerator again, closing on the other car which was only about a hundred yards or so out in front.
“Wait. You were trying to hit him?”
“He’s the only person who knows why he’s trying to kill you. I’d like to have a talk with him.”
Martiel continued to stare at her in disbelief.
“Just hang on,” Tam said, maintaining pressure on the gas pedal. She checked the dashboard indicators to make sure the Lexus wasn’t running too hot and pushed a little harder. As she got closer, the other driver moved to the center, straddling the dashed dividing line to keep her from trying to pass. It was a smart move, but the road was plenty wide enough for Tam to get around him. When the Lexus was just two car lengths behind the Toyota, she steered to the right and started to pass.
The other driver attempted to swerve into her path to block her, which activated the onboard safety systems yet again, but this time Tam used them to her advantage, letting the car slow her down and then swerving left and flooring it again as soon as there was room. The other guy tried to swerve back, but Tam was already nearly parallel with him.
The two cars came together with a hideous grating sound and a shriek of tires. Tam didn’t have to fight too hard to keep the more powerful Lexus on a straight-ahead course, and after just a few seconds of savage friction, the Lexus broke free and shot ahead.
That was the break Tam had been waiting for. “Crash position!”
“What?”
Tam pushed herself back in her seat, pressing her head against the headrest and flexing the muscles of her abdomen as if trying to stand up from a seated position. She reached over with her right hand and grabbed the back of Martiel’s head, pushing his upper body forward, folding him over so that his head was almost touching his knees. With her other hand, she steered to the right, cutting in front of the sedan which was only a car length behind her, and then stomped on the brakes with both feet.
The accident avoidance system wasn’t designed to control acceleration in order to prevent a rear-end collision, and while the anti-lock braking did keep the wheels from locking, the Lexus had a lot of forward momentum. A loud shriek—rubber on asphalt, metal or ceramic or whatever the brakes were made of—and then a jolt as the Toyota plowed into the rear of the Lexus.
Tam’s precautions minimized the effects of whiplash, though she knew she would feel it later. She let off the brakes, and hit the gas again, pulling away.
The interior of the Lexus smelled like hot metal, and Tam could hear a faint scraping sound. Perhaps a piece of the car had partially broken off and was dragging on the road or pressing against a tire, but the luxury vehicle seemed to be handling okay. The same was not true of the Toyota.
For a moment, only darkness filled the rear-view mirror. Then Tam saw red lights moving crazily across the roadway, fifty yards back. The lights disappeared for a moment, then reappeared, closer to the edge of the road. The silver sedan was spinning out of control. The red taillights vanished again, and then there was only darkness.
Tam put on the brakes, less forcefully this time, and brought the Lexus to a stop. “You can sit up now,” she said.
Martiel did so, tentatively, then turned his head and looked back through the rear window. “What did you do?”
“Let’s go find out.” Tam moved the gearshift lever to “R” and pressed the pedal again, rolling backward.
Martiel swallowed nervously but said nothing.
Tam rolled back for about fifteen seconds until the white backup lights revealed a pall of smoke in the air and a scattering of debris on the asphalt. She halted the Lexus again, shifted into park, and then groped under the steering wheel. “Where’s the damn key?”
“It’s...ah, keyless.” Martiel reached over and pushed a button.
Tam couldn’t immediately tell if the car engine had turned off or not. She frowned. Her plan had been to pocket the key to keep Martiel from running off when she got out to investigate. What was the high-tech equivalent of taking the keys? “I need you to step out for a moment.”
“What?”
“Outside. You’re coming with me.”
“Coming...where? Where are we going?”
“To get some answers.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, and as she extended one foot to the pavement, she reached behind her back and drew her Makarov semi-automatic pistol from a kidney holster. She didn’t point it at him. She didn’t need to. “I need you to step out, Mr. Martiel. Now.”
The passenger let out a yelp and hastily complied. Tam got out and quickly circled around to maintain positive control of the other man.
The Toyota was about twenty yards away from the pavement. A trail of disturbed earth revealed how it had spun off the road and ultimately crashed into a tree. Steam was rising from the mangled front end, the engine ticking wildly as it cooled, but the car did not appear to be in any immediate danger of catching fire. Tam aimed the Makarov one-handed at the driver’s side window and gripped Martiel’s elbow with her free hand, guiding him across the open ground toward the wreck.
“You got a phone?” she asked.
“Umm...yeah.” Martiel dipped a hand into a pocket and brought out a smartphone. He activated it unbidden, lighting up the gloom with the glow from the screen. “Should I call 911?”
Tam shook her head. “No. I need you to turn on the flashlight.”
“Oh.” A pause, and then a bright light shone from the device, illuminating the way forward.
Tam quickened her pace, reaching the Toyota a few seconds later. She could just make out the silhouette of the driver, his shaved head lolling against the window. There did not appear to be anyone else inside the vehicle. Tam moved closer, close enough to reach out and hammer the muzzle of the pistol against the glass. Her first strike bounced off, but a second harder blow did the trick. The window frosted over, fracturing into a thousand tiny fragments which cascaded down around the motionless figure within.
The man jolted in surprise and looked up at her, squinting against the brightness of Martiel’s phone light. His face was covered in blood, most of which seemed to be coming from his nose.
“Federal officer,” Tam said. “Make the wrong move, and it will be the last thing you do.”
The dazed man blinked and then slowly raised his hands in a show of surrender.
“Who are you working for?” Tam said. “Who wants Martiel dead? And why?”
The man’s reply was slurred and barely coherent. “Don’t know... talking about.”
Tam lowered the Makarov and brought her face closer. “You sure that’s how you want to play this?”
“Lawyer.”
“Lawyer, huh? Okay. At least you’ve got your priorities straight. I let you call your lawyer, but I don’t think he’s going to be able to do much for you. That funny taste in your mouth right now? It’s blood. You’ve got internal injuries. Probably a ruptured spleen. The paramedics are coming, but just between you and me, they’re not going to be able to do much for you either.”
“Lying...” The accusation devolved into a coughing fit, and Tam leaned back as blood sprayed from the man’s mouth.
“Wish I was,” Tam replied in a tone of commiseration. “You know I’m right, too. You’re not feeling any pain because of adrenaline, but that’ll wear off soon, and you’ll die screaming. Not much I can do about that. Once we get your name, I’ll probably be able to figure it out anyway, but it would make both our lives a lot easier if you just told me now. You know, before you cross over.
“Oh, that’s right,” she continued quickly, before he could answer. “We’ll get your name, make no mistake about that. We’ll tear your life apart, seize your assets. Your family, if you have one, won’t get a red cent. In fact, we’ll go after them for our expenses.
“Or, you could give me a reason to leave them alone. A name.”
It was, evidently, the correct pressure point. “Don’t know,” the man gasped. “Anything. Just...a job.”
“Who hired you?” Tam pressed.
The reply was garbled, but Tam was pretty sure she understood him.
“The Immortal? Is that what you said?”
The man gave a feeble nod. “Cold,” he whispered. “Everything... dark.”
“What else? Did you kill the others?”
“Not me.” Another coughing fit.
“Why does this immortal want to kill bank executives?”
“Don’t...know. Family. Take care of...”
Tam turned away in frustration. “Come on,” she told Martiel. “We’re getting out of here.”
The other man hesitated. “You’re just going to leave him here?”
“You got a problem with that?” Tam shot back. “He tried to kill you, don’t forget.”
“Yeah, but...you’re just going to leave him here? To die?”
Tam grabbed the other man’s elbow and pulled him along. “He isn’t going to die.”
“But you said...”
“I lied,” Tam said, enunciating the words slowly for emphasis. “He’s got a bloody nose. Maybe some bruises. I just told him that to get him talk. It’s an interrogation technique. I needed to know what he knew, which unfortunately was both diddly and squat.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to. Right now, all you need to do is come with me. If you want to live, that is.” She stopped at the road’s edge, peering into the darkness until she could make out the glow of approaching headlights. Hopefully, it was Sievers in the GT. If not, she’d have to improvise.
She gave Martiel a sidelong glance. “Did that mean anything to you? The Immortal?”
“I...uh...” He shook his head. “What did you mean about ‘others’?”
“Over the last couple years, there have been several mysterious deaths among bank executives. Suspicious suicides and accidents, muggings gone wrong.” Tam continued appraising him. “You haven’t heard about it?”
He shrugged. “Actually, I have. But I thought it was just an urban myth. People making a big deal out of coincidences. There’s like a quarter of a million people working in the New York finance sector. Accidents happen.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Tam replied, honestly. “But then somebody that I trust implicitly told me that you would be next. He was right.”
Martiel was speechless.
The headlights drew closer, and soon Tam could hear the cough and rattle of an engine that sounded like it was on its last legs. Now she hoped it wasn’t Sievers after all, because if it was, if he had destroyed his beloved Mustang GT for the sake of the mission, she would never hear the end of it.
But then the approaching vehicle slowed to a rough idle in front of her and she saw that it was indeed the bright red muscle car. Billy Sievers leaned out the open window—the same window Tam had exited through just a few short minutes before.
“Need a ride?” he said, grinning.
“Uh, thanks, but I think I’ll wait for a car that won’t break down in a couple miles.”
Sievers affected a hurt expression. “Ah, is that any way to thank me? Don’t worry. She’ll make it to the next town. Couple hours under the hood and she’ll be as good as new. Better, even.” He glanced over at Martiel. “I see you saved him.”
“Yeah. Listen, we’ll take his car to the safehouse. You get your ride fixed ASAP, and then come join us when you can. Maybe Stone will be able to make sense of this.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, Billy. I got this. Go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sievers' face disappeared from view, and a moment later, the GT backfired loudly and took off.
Tam turned to Martiel again and gestured toward the Lexus. “Shall we?”
“We’re just going to leave? Shouldn’t we wait for the police?” He shrugged. “I mean, aren’t you going to arrest that guy?”
Tam shook her head. “Until I know who’s calling the shots, I’m afraid we can’t trust the police. Or anyone else. Right now, the best thing for you is to disappear.”
She had an even more compelling reason for leaving the would-be assassin stranded in the wreck of his car. As an officer of the CIA, Tam technically didn’t have any jurisdiction to conduct law enforcement activities on American soil, and she didn’t want to have to explain herself to a highway patrolman or sheriff’s deputy.
Martiel balked. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because you’re still alive.” Tam put her hands on her hips. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. This ain’t a suggestion. Get your ass in the damn car.”
Martiel gulped once, then moved like a scolded kindergartener, practically scampering back to the Lexus. He got in the passenger side and buckled his seat belt.
Tam got in and then stared at the steering wheel. “How the hell do you turn it on?”
Martiel reached over, tentatively as if he was afraid she might bite his hand and pushed a button. The car was so quiet, so well insulated, that Tam couldn’t tell if it was actually running.
“Where are we going?” Martiel asked, his voice a nervous quaver.
Tam sighed before answering. “Back to the city. I have a place there where you’ll be safe.”
And then, she added to herself, I’m gonna have to hit an ATM in order to pay my debt to the swear jar.