Chapter 20

The MIT car drove well above the speed limit, not only to escape the gang who had pulled over to attack them, but to also catch up to the racecar that had gone by them. Richard thought that they had been in last place all that time. Now that the other car had passed them, he was sure they were in last place and the race itself had his full attention. Seeing the other car had reminded him of everything that they were working toward.

Richard was in a heightened state of awareness. Katrina had the weapon on the roof powered up. The latest confrontation and the sighting of the other car had reminded her that their weapon was truly their best form of defense. An energy weapon could be better than a bullet any day, it had less continuous fire power, but its range could be fantastic if controlled properly. It may not blow up cars, but it could easily blind or worse.

Richard pushed their car down the road at one hundred and twenty miles per hour. He had a good handle on all of the gages now and knew how long he could maintain this speed. His primary concern was to catch up to the five cars ahead of him. Based on past performances, all of the cars still in the race had speed problems, and they couldn’t maintain anything above eighty for any length of time. Jenkins One Tree system could out strip any of the other cars in the race at sustained speeds above eighty. But he still needed to be careful.

Katrina checked the maps. “Las Vegas is probably only an hour away at this point and the guy that you said passed us when we were pulled over shouldn’t be that far ahead of us at this point. You have to remember that in at least four or five hours everyone will have to shut down or pull over to power back up.”

“Yeah, well… I’m a little worried about why we haven’t caught up to that other car yet. I’m burning a lot of battery at this speed.”

Katrina said quickly. “It’s better to slow down a little so we can recharge. They can’t keep up their speed. We’ll find them soon enough.”

Just as Richard began to slow up a helicopter flew overhead following the path of the road.

~~~

Brocton, Weaver, Colliste, and Cosgrove were now riding in a couple of state troopers’ cars. They were flying down the road almost as fast as they had been when they had been flying above it. The troopers didn’t say much at all. They probably didn’t think much of their assignment, playing chauffer to FBI agents, but they followed orders through their chain of command and did as they were told.

But that didn’t mean that they were going to chat with them or give up information without being asked. The only benefit to the lack of chatter was that the radio didn’t conform to the officers’ silent treatment. It spoke loudly about all things going on within the state of Utah. When they had split up into the troopers’ cars Colliste had paired up with Brocton and had fallen asleep soon after the drive had begun. Brocton, on the other hand, listened intently to the chatter. In the car with Cosgrove, Weaver took notes while her leader maintained a constant stream of phone conversations.

When a call went over the radio for all officers to respond the troopers responded by giving their positions and their current assignments.

The FBI agents all listened with intent. Brockton woke Colliste. The time between the officers checking in and the dispatcher releasing information about the complaint felt like forever. Finally the dispatcher announced that there were complaints of an illegal roadblock on the highway at the state border. Their two cars were the closest officers and were needed to respond. They had received several calls regarding the issue.

The troopers turned on their sirens and pushed their speedometers closer to their limits. Weaver put up an arm to protest the officers’ decision to investigate a complaint instead of driving toward their rendezvous point but Cosgrove stopped her.

“Call the office and find out more information about those roadblock reports. If it’s on this road, it might have to do with the race. Remember, Killington may be out of commission but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t others involved. This impromptu roadblock may be an attempt to catch the drivers of the race as they head towards California.”

Weaver nodded and pulled out her cell phone. Cosgrove hung up with his party and made another call.

~~~

Out in Nevada at the Federal Bureau of Investigation building a phone rang in an office. It rang until it exhausted itself then began again. Josephine McGregor ran in, trying not to spill her coffee. She had walked to the breakroom to get a fresh cup and as always, as soon as she had walked away, the phone had insisted upon her quick return. Her skirt and heels had not helped. She set the coffee down on the desk and grabbed for the phone.

“Hello.”

“Finally!” Cosgrove said. “I’ve tried to call six times.”

McGregor didn’t say anything.

Cosgrove continued on. “I need you to send a helicopter to meet us at the border. There is some kind of illegal roadblock and we will be stuck here if we have to stay with the state police officers that were supposed to bring us to your team. They’ve been dispatched to respond to the call.”

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Cosgrove. The director sent a memo about a street race, and you were supposed to send two cars to meet us? Any of this sound familiar?”

“Of course, I got that memo, the cars are already on their way.”

Cosgrove ager was rising. “We can’t meet up with the cars because the troopers that we’re riding with got called to an incident on the highway. I need you to send a helicopter to pick us up at the Nevada border. And make sure there is at least one sharpshooter on board.” His tone seethed with the intent of his revenge she didn’t act on his requests immediately.

“I’m sorry agent Cosgrove, the only two helicopters I have are already out on another assignment. I can check in with the cars that are en route and see how long it will take to get to the border.”

Steam came out of Agent Cosgrove’s ears at the news. He had to concede that waiting was now his only option. He tried to calm his tone before he spoke again. “Thank you. But I will still require the use of the helicopters when they come back in.”

Agent McGregor’s voice perked up as if she were enjoying his defeated tone. “Very well then. I will send what you requested as soon as they return.”

Cosgrove terminated the line. He turned to Weaver. “Get Las Vegas Swat out here. We’ll use their birds and they’ll have more than one sharpshooter in house.”

Weaver nodded and began her next barrage of phone calls to reach the right person to secure what they needed.

~~~

Richard was getting nervous. The line was building behind them as they waited in traffic to reach some kind of blockade. He kept sticking his head out of the window to try to see why everyone was stopping.

Katrina still had her head gear on and her nervous maneuvering within the car caused the weapon on the roof to move in many different positions. “You think they’re checking for alcohol?” she asked.

“I’m not even sure they’re cops.” Richard said. “That helicopter that went over us earlier, I didn’t see any police markings on it. And the vehicles that are blocking the road look like trash trucks. Last I knew only the biggest cities use trash trucks for anything other than garbage collection. Hell, New York City uses theirs for plows, but this is a pretty small town we’re passing through. I doubt they even have trash collection. I’m getting a really bad feeling about this.”

Katrina became aware that the weapon on the roof was moving erratically and it made her self-conscious about her nervous agitation. “I’m going to take this off. I’m only scaring the people around us.”

“No.” Richard said. “Leave it on. We need to make a move before we get too close. Otherwise we may not have enough room to move around, and we might need it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Hold on to something.” Richard commanded. “Were going to see how good these tires are.”

Katrina grabbed the handle of her door. They looked at each other, silently agreeing that his idea was the best option. Wait, they were agreeing on a maneuver before it occurred?

Richard waited for the car ahead of him, an ugly brown, older model, Taurus to move ahead enough to open up some space for him to turn slightly and position himself to launch out into the sand. Then he waited.

“What are you waiting for?” Katrina started to ask.

Richard had no idea why he was waiting. Perhaps, in his mind he had reservations about this move. When the sound of sirens blared from the rear of the line, Richard knew he couldn’t wait any longer. It was now or never. He punched the accelerator to the floor. The MIT car launched itself over the pavement and into the soft sand beside the highway.

~~~

Two state police cars came up the inside edge of the highway with lights on and sirens blaring. Off to the left a racecar broke the line and bolted towards the sand. Upon seeing the police cars, the guys from the roadblock raced back to their vehicles and drove back across the state line into Nevada. A second racecar broke from the line and followed the first one away from the road. Suddenly, the helicopter that had passed them earlier moved above the line of cars and chased after the racecars.

The police cars could not get any closer to where the original roadblock had been. The cars that were in their way had nowhere to go that would allow the troopers to pass. Cosgrove hopped out of the first police car angry. He had replaced his phone with his side arm. Weaver was hot on his heels. Brockton and Colliste ran behind the state trooper on the opposite side of the line of cars. They moved as fast as they could, in the manner of trained agents with fire arms raised, down the line of waiting cars. By the time they had arrived at what would have been considered the front of the line, all of the trucks that had been blocking the road had disappeared. Cars were beginning to move. Oblivious to the officers’ presence they were just happy that the trucks had moved out of their way.

Cosgrove was pissed. He swore loudly followed by, “Where is my helicopter!”

All of the FBI agents watched the unidentified helicopter fly away.

“Colliste, get someone at the FAA to tell you whose chopper that is, and where it’s going. Weaver, find out where our ride is at. We need to find those trucks. And Brockton, get a camera and take some pictures of the tire tracks from those two racecars. We’ll need those later.”

Cosgrove took a deep breath and thought about his assignment. He was seriously considering if it was worth the bureaucratic nightmare that he would create if he commandeered one of the trooper’s cars. It was either that or they were going to fall behind waiting for their ride to show up. He knew that their chauffeurs wouldn’t cross state lines.

~~~

The MIT car and the other racecar had both pulled back onto the highway but both drivers knew they were in trouble. They were now ahead of the trucks that had most likely created the roadblock specifically to pen them in and the chopper was probably working with them. They couldn’t get caught by the trucks or by the police if they were going to stay in the race. But they all knew that their lives were on the line. Their only choice was to drive fast, very fast.

The cars were one behind the other on the highway, Richard leading the way. The thought of disqualifying each other never crossed their minds. At least in Richard’s mind they were together in this mess at the moment, compatriots for a single cause, living.

Behind them, eleven vehicles bore down on them. Ahead the helicopter began to make a wide arc to turn back towards them. Every time Katrina turned to look behind them the weapon on the car’s roof turned in tandem with her head. The car behind them weaved back and forth, unsure of their intentions.

After a few seconds of this the driver sped up and pulled alongside so Richard and the other car’s weapons specialist were next to each other. Richard looked out the window to their counterparts and waved.

The weapons specialist in the other car waved back. Through the fast blowing air between them he shouted, “What team are you from?”

“MIT,” Richard shouted. “You?”

The driver spoke this time. He shouted over his passenger. “Caltech. That arm on your roof is amazing. Great idea.”

Katrina leaned in over Richard and smiled. “Thanks!”

Suddenly the Caltech car’s passenger side mirror exploded as a bullet passed through it. Both drivers waivered toward the opposite sides of their lanes. The gunshot that had caused the mirror to explode echoed off the distant hills. A sharpshooter poised in the helicopter had made the shot. When the two cars realigned all eyes fell on the chopper hanging in the air a half mile in front of them.

Richard turned his head slightly towards their new friends and shouted, “Good luck!”

“Good luck” came back at them but Richard didn’t take the time to see which one of them had spoken. Another shot came at them and ricocheted off the weapon’s steel support on the roof. Katrina could feel the reverberations from the hit through her calibrated headset. Richard took the car back into the sand at over a hundred miles per hour, hoping that the dust would give them a little cover.

Katrina bounced all over the cabin of the car. Her seatbelt did little to keep her in her seat. The headset bounced askew as she hung on for dear life.

Richard had a plan. He needed as much dust as possible. He knew that helicopters couldn’t fly during sand storms. Too much dust would clog the engine’s ability to operate properly and cause the power to be sporadic. He didn’t need Katrina’s engineering skills to know that.

He knew that they were more of a target than the Caltech team and he expected their car to be the focus of the shooter’s aim. Expecting the helicopter to follow them across the sand he drove deeper into the desert away from the road. Richard watched the helicopter and when he thought they were close enough for him to implement his plan he shouted for Katrina to hang on.

Unfortunately Katrina had already needed something to hang onto and it was much too late for his concern. He cut his wheel. The high speed of the tires threw dirt in the air. He continued to turn the car making a cyclone of dust and dirt. Katrina became glued to her door and window.

Finally he stopped and Katrina fell back into her seat.

Outside in the dust cloud the chopper pilot was screaming to the shooter. “We have to get out of here! If the engine stalls, we’re dead!” On cue the engine began to cough. The pilot, trained in combat, knew that auto rotating might save them but they had to be closer to the ground. He pushed the stick forward. It was too late to save the engine from dying so he prayed that they were close enough to the ground that their fall might only be a hard bounce in the sand.

Katrina was so relieved that they weren’t spinning anymore she had no energy to hit her driver. But then she could hear the sound of something large coming at them, like that of a bomb coming down on their heads. Richard shifted hard into third. He floored the accelerator and popped the clutch. The car lurched forward. Katrina grabbed for her door and screamed.

Richard knew that it was impossible to predict where the aircraft would fall. There was still too much dust to see. The only thing that he could do was move as fast as possible away from the sound of its engine. In hind sight, if he had stayed where they were, the chopper would have missed them by a thousand feet or more. Richard, not howing, drove like a bat out of hell trying to avoid it and almost struck the landing strut as it crashed to the ground. The sound of it striking the sand was a massive thump to the passengers of the car. It shook the vehicle. Richard kept driving as fast as he could to escape the mire of his own dust, adrenaline pushing him.

Finally the dust began to dissipate and Katrina tried to right herself in her seat. Richard reached out to help her but she waved him off. Her deadly stare made him want to laugh.

“I’m too tired to hit you right now. Think of it as... I owe you a major pounding tomorrow.” She said very out-of-breath.

“I look forward to it,” Richard said, as he allowed his smile to surface.

The crunching of tires over sand could be heard beside them, then a loud click. Richard could see vehicles approaching with weapons sticking out of the windows.

The shots started coming and he slammed on the breaks, forced the shifter into reverse and popped the clutch. Richard headed back into the remaining dust cloud straight toward the downed helicopter.

The two men in the helicopter had survived the crash. They couldn’t see anything because of all of the dust. The shooter hadn’t been belted in but oddly he had sustained no injuries. The pilot, on the other hand, moaned heavily. The shooter knew he had to get the pilot out and get one of his associates to pick them up. He knew how lucky they had been to survive the crash.

The sound of gun shots was getting closer. Consecutive shots, close enough to sound like machine gun fire, took his mind back to the battlefield. A bullet blew through the cockpit window. The shooter snapped into his old training and he ducked as more bullets raked the cockpit. He crawled on all fours to the pilot and released the man’s seat belt.

The firing had stopped. The sounds of car tires skidding in the sand and more engines revving filled the air. The shooter pulled at his pilot. The dead body slumped over the side of the seat and fell to the floor. The shooter swore loudly, his friend had survived the crash only to be shot. He raised his head barely above the broken cockpit windshield. A variety of vehicles were driving at high rates of speed in the dust cloud. The racecar did easy spins in the sand making sure to kick up as much dirt and rocks as possible. The sound of those rocks striking metal fenders and hoods sounded like machine gun fire again but this time in a higher, tinnier pitch. The pursers all changed direction to avoid the helicopter except for one.

A white Dodge Caravan, with streaks on the windshield from having attempted to use its windshield wipers in the heavy dust storm, drove forward. Not having seen the aircraft in its way, it was coming right towards the cockpit. The shooter turned and dove toward the rear of the chopper. The Caravan slammed into the bottom of the chopper so hard that that it moved the entire aircraft. The shooter was thrown and landed in the cockpit again where he had just been.

After some hard breathing and thanking his lucky stars the shooter managed to roll out of the chopper door. He landed in the sand, happy to be on solid ground once more. It took a few seconds to stand. In his indignation he wobbled over to the van’s driver’s side door. The airbag had deployed and the driver was leaned over to one side, unconscious. The shooter took in the scene before him. The van’s windshield was blocked by mud. The idiot driver had used windshield washer fluid to attempt to clear away the dust. Now the windshield was cracked and broken in several places. The front end was smashed but no liquids dripped to the ground. He looked back towards the chopper thinking of his rifle. If it wasn’t damaged he would hunt down the racecar driver who did this to him.

He stormed back to his former ride and searched for his rifle. After finding it he determined that it was still in working order. He ran over to the van and opened the door. With one hand he pulled out the driver to ground. “Idiot,” the shooter muttered to himself, “I’m better off with guys that are as smart as the one we’re trying to kill.”

He climbed in to the van and raised his foot to kick out the remaining part of the windshield. He positioned his rifle so it stuck out through the windshield opening and restarted the van. Within seconds he was off to catch the bastard who he was supposed to have killed from the air. ��~z��

Next Chapter: Chapter 21