Reel evaluated the probable forces aligned against them. There had been two large SUVs coming down the drive. Max capacity was eight each. Perhaps sixteen men then. Maybe more if some of them had crammed into the cargo area in the very back. But they would have guns. That took space. So maybe just sixteen.
Robie called out softly to her. “Ready.” He held two wires in his hand and was about to cross them.
Reel took her optics from her small backpack, slipped them on, and fired them up. She rested her pistols on top of a metal trash can.
The same voice said, “You have ten seconds to decide, then the option is no longer available.”
“Three…two…one,” said Robie.
He crossed the wires and the big Bentley roared to life.
Robie was glad whoever had last parked it had backed the Bentley in. It would be dicey enough without having to cut a J-turn under these conditions.
The men outside charged toward the garage, firing their weapons.
And revealing their positions.
Reel fired, methodically, unhurried but with pinpoint accuracy.
Four men who had exposed themselves with their muzzle flashes fell dead, while the others took cover.
“Move, Jess,” cried out Robie.
She sprinted across the garage floor as bullets ripped through the space. Reel tumbled into the front seat of the Bentley and then immediately slipped over into the backseat. She rolled down both windows, a pistol in each hand.
“Hit it!” she said.
Robie put the Bentley in gear and slammed down the gas. The big car lurched forward and smashed through the garage door, sending big chunks of it flying away.
They heard a scream and a thunk and then another body fell, presumably by collision with a part of the garage door or the car.
The Bentley careened down the driveway. They were taking fire from all sides now. Robie sat low in the seat, his head barely above the dash. He was glad that the old Bentley was built like a tank with heavy metal sides. He jerked the wheel to the right and clipped a guy reloading his weapon, sending him sailing away where he slammed into a pile of burned objects that had probably been carried out of the house earlier by the fire department.
Reel was firing out of each of the open rear windows. She wasn’t firing wildly but she wasn’t necessarily firing at targets, either. She just needed to get them through this gauntlet.
Glass exploded as a round wiped out the Bentley’s rear window. Bullets hit a front tire and a rear tire, shredding them. Still, Robie kept the accelerator flat to the floor and the Bentley kept moving, though not as smoothly.
The windshield exploded as multiple rounds hit it. Robie ducked in time but he heard Reel grunt from the backseat.
“You okay?” he called out.
“Just keep going,” she yelled back.
Robie swerved to avoid one of the SUVs, which caused the Bentley to crash into the other one. It moved the other vehicle enough to get by and the front right wheel of the SUV was pushed in, making the truck inoperable.
Seconds later they were through the gate. Robie hung a left when the car hit the asphalt, and the wounded Bentley rumbled down the road.
Robie glanced in the backseat. He saw the blood on Reel’s face.
“How bad?”
“Not bad.” She paused and added, “But it’s getting in my eyes. This car have a first aid kit?”
Robie popped open the glove box, and fumbled through it as he drove.
He pulled things out, tossing them on the passenger seat.
His fingers finally closed around the small, plastic box.
“Here,” he said, tossing the tiny first aid kit to her.
Robie glanced back and then down at the passenger seat.
His gaze fixed for a moment on what he was seeing.
A photo. It was bent and creased.
He picked it up.
The recognition was immediate.
Laura Barksdale.
He put it in his pocket.
Then he heard Reel hiss.
“Robie, they’re coming.”
Chapter
61
ROBIE HAD MADE a mistake. He had disabled one SUV using the Bentley as a battering ram, but he had left the other intact.
That error could end up killing them. He could understand making mistakes playing detective, but this sort of thing was what he did for a living. He had definitely lost his mojo. He might never have a chance to get it back now.
The SUV was right behind them and gaining, as the shot-up Bentley on its shredded tires continued to slow.
“We’re running on nearly metal,” said Robie. “And I smell fuel.”
“I know,” said Reel, who was being pitched and tossed across the backseat.
The next volley of bullets shredded the rear of the Bentley.
Reel dove to the floorboard just in time as glass and metal and leather blew around the car’s interior.
Robie felt blood rush down his face as something struck him.
He wiped the blood away and looked back. The SUV was right on them. He could see men leaning out the windows.
“They’ve got MP5s,” called out Reel, who was watching this, too.
They heard the sirens wailing and engines roaring.
“Cavalry’s on its way,” said Reel.
Robie nodded. Only the cavalry would be seriously outgunned.
Robie kept the gas pedal pressed to the floor, but he knew that wouldn’t be enough.
“Hang on,” he told Reel as he slid on his seat belt. “And toss me a pistol.”
She gave him his Glock, buckled her belt, and then braced her feet against the back of the passenger seat.
Robie screeched the Bentley into a one-eighty, losing hubcaps, more rubber, and other bits and pieces of the once stately car.
He slammed down on the gas and they were flying right at the SUV.
This was a clear game of chicken, with a twist.
Robie aimed his gun where the windshield had been and fired his entire mag at the windshield of the SUV. It shattered and blood spurted against the glass as the SUV swerved to Robie’s right.
Robie cut his wheel, sending the lumbering Bentley to the left.
The vehicles still passed so close to each other that the side mirrors collided and snapped off.
Robie could see the SUV driver was slumped over the wheel, the man next to him as well.
Two men appeared at the rear windows and prepared to strafe Robie with fire from their MP5s.
First one man and then the next stiffened as the rounds fired by Reel from the Bentley’s backseat slammed into them.
Then the Bentley was past the driverless SUV, which slid onto the shoulder, flipped, hit a tree, and exploded.
“Robie, we’re on fire!”
Robie looked in the rearview and saw flames flickering from the rear of the car.
He slammed on the brakes, slipped off his belt, and kicked open the door.
Reel called out, “My seat belt’s jammed.”