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When I was safe… then I would call the client.
And probably not scream at him unless I wanted to be next on his hit list.
I kept checking my rearview mirror.
I didn’t see anything at first –
Until I did.
Miles behind me, back on the ridge overlooking the valley I was in, a beautiful blue sports car stopped along the side of the road. Someone got out, a tiny speck in the distance.
It was Lars.
I couldn’t see him – it was too far away – but I knew it was him. I could feel it in my bones.
Don’t follow me…
PLEASE don’t follow me…
Unfortunately, my prayers were not granted.
The blue sports car took off in my direction a few seconds later.
FUCK.
The one card I had up my sleeve was courtesy of MI6.
Part of being an agent is training for almost everything that could get thrown at you over the course of a mission.
I could fly a plane or helicopter well enough to take off and land without crashing…
But I could drive a car like a Formula 1 racer.
I flew down the road and took the corners at breakneck speeds, occasionally glancing in my rearview mirror to see if the blue sports car was gaining on me.
Every few minutes, I caught a glimpse in the distance –
But it seemed to grow smaller and smaller every time I saw it.
A few minutes later, I reached the first major exit for the road I was on.
I could either continue on to Florence –
Or take another highway and go south.
I decided to go south.
I slowed down to a crawl so my tires wouldn’t leave skid marks on the road – which Lars would be able to see – and took the exit.
Once on the new highway, I sped up again – although I kept my speed reasonable so the cops wouldn’t stop me.
After 30 minutes, I was reasonably sure Lars was no longer following me.
After an hour, I was certain.
I stopped on a deserted country road, stripped off my camouflage, and switched into jeans and a blouse.
I was just about to contact the client when Sean called me first.
