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Right as the vessel reached the breakers Devine heard something behind him. Coming from the south on the road were twin lights as a vehicle raced through the dark. He used his optics and saw that it was a black Cadillac Escalade, the same type of vehicle in which he’d been kidnapped.
Shit.
Devine hoofed it to his SUV, jumped in, and fired it up. He saw in his rearview that the Escalade was bearing down on him now. He pulled onto the road and punched the gas, making his tires squeal against the pavement as they strained to gain purchase. The Escalade countered this move by speeding up.
His ride was lighter and nimbler than the Escalade, but had nowhere near the horsepower. He knew this to be true because, despite his pressing the accelerator to the floor, the Escalade closed the gap with authority and rammed him from behind.
Devine fought to keep control of the Tahoe, but it was difficult on the rain-slicked road. And then a sudden gust of wind sent dead leaves and other debris barreling across the road, nearly blinding him. That was troubling but manageable. Far more problematic were the shots fired through his back glass, shattering it. The bullets passed uncomfortably close to him on either side before exiting out the windshield, leaving three small holes and one larger one, and an accompanying long crack in the glass as grim evidence of their passage.
Devine slipped out his gun, rolled down his window, pointed his Glock behind him, and fired six shots left-handed and blindly at the Caddy.
It did absolutely no good. A crescendo of shots pinged all over the interior of his SUV, forcing him to duck while still trying to see to drive. His vehicle went off the road before veering back on as Devine tried desperately to get out of the way of the shooter’s sight line.
As he got the Tahoe back under control, the Escalade sped forward and came up next to him. His window was now parallel with the front passenger-side window of the Escalade.
The window on the other vehicle slid down and Devine saw a man sitting there wearing a black ski mask. He didn’t focus long on the man but turned his attention to the biting end of the side-by-side shotgun, which was pointing right at Devine’s head.
Devine slammed on the brakes a split second before the shotgun roared, and the buckshot load passed harmlessly in front of his windshield.
Devine put the Tahoe in reverse, punched the gas, and hurtled backward for about fifty yards. He next performed a J-turn by tapping the gas and brake at precisely the right moments, and spun the steering wheel just as he’d been taught in the military during evasive maneuvers training. He’d done it back then in a three-ton armored Humvee the size of a hippo. By comparison, the Tahoe was not much of a challenge. He drove off going south, back toward Putnam.
However, the Escalade driver performed the exact same maneuver and impressively did it even more tightly than Devine had managed. In his rearview Devine saw the rear driver’s side window come down, and the muzzle of an MP5 poked out as the Escalade soared after him.
Devine wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this development, only that he wasn’t going to sit there and go down quietly. He dropped back and was about to ram the larger vehicle as it came up beside him when a series of shots rang out. Only the shots weren’t coming from the Escalade.
The big SUV immediately swerved and went off the road in a swirl of mud and flying leaves. Devine checked his rearview again; the Escalade appeared to be out of the chase.
He floored it and drove straight back to Putnam. When he got to his room he texted Campbell. He didn’t expect an answer but he got one a minute later.
Glad you’re all right. Hunker down for the night.
Devine texted back a reply and then started to wonder who had fired the shots that had saved his life.
And then a moment later he realized he had forgotten all about the boat coming to shore.
He slumped back on the bed and groaned.
And then his phone rang. The retired general must have thought of something else.
Only it wasn’t Campbell.
And Devine wasn’t going to be hunkering down.
CHAPTER
53
ANNIE PALMER SOUNDED STRESSED.
“Travis, can you come over?” she said. “I know it’s late. But I really need you.”
“Okay. Where do you live?”
“Not my place. I’m still at Alex’s. She asked me to stay.”
“What’s wrong? Is she okay?”
“That’s why I’m calling. She’s...I don’t know what to call it. But she’s not in a good place.”
