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Sandecker smiled, and his eyes softened considerably. "You have a deft manner of slicing to the gut of the matter."
Pitt was wary. He could see the axe was about to fall. "When?" he asked quickly.
"In precisely one hour and fifty minutes. You're taking a commercial airline out of Dulles."
"A pity we didn't land there," Pitt said sourly, "and saved you the drive."
"Security reasons. Kern thought it best if you arrive at the terminal by car, pick up the tickets, and board like any other tourists flying to the South Seas."
"We could use a change of clothes."
"Kern sent a man to pack clean things in suitcases. They've already been checked through."
"Very thoughtful of him. I must remind myself to change my security alarms when I return--"
Pitt broke off and studied the reflection in his rearview mirror. The same pair of headlights had been on the Jeep's tail since they swung onto the beltway. For the last several kilometers they had maintained an exact distance. He punched off the cruise control and increased speed slightly. The lights dropped back and moved forward again.
"Something wrong?" as
ked Sandecker.
"We've picked up a tail."
Giordino turned and peered through the big rear window. "More than one. I make out three vans in a convoy."
Pitt stared thoughtfully into the mirror. The beginning of a grin drew across his face. "Whoever is after us isn't taking any chances. They've sent a full platoon."
Sandecker snatched a car phone and dialed the MAIT team safe line. "This is Admiral Sandecker!" he snapped, ignoring any attempt at procedural codes. "I'm on the Capital Beltway heading south near Morningside. We are being followed--"
"Make that pursued," Pitt interrupted him. "They're closing fast."
Suddenly a burst of gunfire tore through the roof of the Jeep just above their heads. "Correction,"
Giordino said in utter calm. "Change pursued to attacked."
Sandecker slouched down on the floor and spoke rapidly into the car phone's mouthpiece, giving location and instructions. Pitt had already slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The high torque of the big 5.9-liter V-8 kicked in, and the Jeep swiftly leaped down the beltway at 150 kph.
"The agent on duty is sending out a call for the highway patrol," announced Sandecker.
"Tell them to put on some speed," Pitt urged, whipping the big Jeep back and forth across the three lanes of highway to throw off their pursuers' aim.
"They're not playing fair," Giordino said contritely. He dropped down on the floor between the seats as another burst sprayed the rear window's glass over him, passed through the car, and took out half the windshield. "They've got guns, and we don't."
"I think I can fix that." Pitt spared him a quick glance down and back.
"How?"
"By getting off this damn highway, where we make a perfect target, and taking every bend in the next road I can find until we hit a town."
"The turnoff for Phelps Point is coming up," advised Sandecker, peeping over the dashboard.
Pitt stole a quick look in the rearview mirror. He could see now that the vans were painted in the color scheme of ambulances. Even as he observed them, their red and blue flashing lights blinked. Their sirens remained mute, however, as the drivers pulled abreast of each other, covering the entire southbound lanes of the beltway to increase their firepower.
Pitt could make out men clad in black aiming automatic weapons out the side windows. Whoever planned the assassination had covered every base. There must have been four men to a van. Twelve who were armed to the teeth against three who probably had only one Swiss Army knife between them.
Pitt had an idea for evening the odds a bit. The off-ramp to Phelps Point was still two hundred meters ahead. No time. The next barrage of massed fire would blow them off the road. Without touching the brakes and warning the pursuing killers of his intention by flashing red taillights, he abruptly threw the Jeep into a crabwise slide and shot across two lanes and down an embankment.
The timing was perfect. A hail of gunfire missed the big Grand Wagoneer as it swept over the landscaped grass and surfed through a shallow ditch filled with half a meter of water. Then all tires bounced free of the ground as it soared over the other edge of the ditch, landing with a screeching of rubber on a frontage road that paralleled the beltway.
