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“Chairman,” Raven said into her earpiece. “Polk has MacD. They took off in two Range Rovers and are coming your way.”
FIFTY-FOUR
Juan was at full sprint now to get back to the road, leaving Renee and Parsons behind him to catch up.
“Gomez, do you read me?” he said as he ran.
“I’m here, Chairman.”
“What’s your status?”
“I’m refueling now. I can be ready to take off in ten minutes.”
“What’s the private jet doing?”
“It’s taxiing out to the runway.”
“Can you block it?”
“From taking off?” Gomez asked.
“With the tiltrotor.”
“Depends how long they wait at the end of the runway. They’re almost there.”
“They won’t take off yet,” Juan said. “Do what you can.”
He ran out onto the road with his back to the crab bridge and saw the two Range Rovers racing toward him. Juan drew his pistol. MacD would be in the back of one of the SUVs, so Juan’s best chance was to take out the drivers as they passed him.
He stood behind Renee’s Mercedes and took aim at the lead driver. From this distance, he couldn’t make out his face or tell which vehicle MacD was in, so he’d have to be careful about his sight lines. He couldn’t take the chance that one of his stray bullets would hit MacD.
The Range Rovers approached at high speed, one closely following the other. As the lead SUV came closer, he could tell the driver was a Chinese man, not Polk. He took aim and fired three quick shots at him.
One of the rounds hit him, causing the Range Rover to swing off the road. At the same time, he saw Polk in the driver’s seat of the second vehicle. Juan squeezed off a shot as it flashed by, but he missed. MacD grimaced from the back seat, where he was being guarded by another man.
The lead Range Rover with its dead driver struck one end of the crab overpass, severing it from its base, and flipped into the trees.
The bridge, now supported on only one side, came crashing down just as Polk’s vehicle drove safely underneath it. The bridge settled onto the roadway at an angle, reducing the clearance to only four feet high, far too little to allow the Mercedes G-Wagen to pass below it and chase them down.
A gargling rumble came from behind him. Juan turned to see Renee squeal to a stop next to him in the low-slung Jaguar.
“Get in,” she shouted and pointed at the narrow gap under the collapsed bridge. “We can make it through there.”
“I can’t ask you—”
“It will take twice as long to intercept them in the other direction with the Mercedes,” Parsons called out as he jogged up. “And you have the gun. She won’t take no for an answer, believe me.”
Juan didn’t argue any further. He hopped over the door, and Renee took off before he was all the way in his seat.
Renee gunned the engine, and it felt like the sports car was shot from a cannon. She threaded the Jag neatly under the bridge remains and floored it in the hope of overtaking the Range Rover.
“How many different ways to the airport on this road?”
“Just two, but they won’t take the scenic route along the coast.”
The speedometer needle was already pushing ninety. At this rate, it would take only a few minutes to cross the small island.
“Thanks for doing this,” Juan shouted over the rushing wind as he loaded a fresh mag.
