Black Widow. Cliff Ryder
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could have driven the truck. I only needed a little more time to figure out how to do it better.”
Slowly traffic started forward again. The sedan she was following powered through the intersection.
Gripping the wheel, knowing her next action would put her life on the line, Ajza turned right and jammed her foot down hard on the accelerator. The truck responded immediately. She swung out wide around the corner and momentarily crossed bumpers with a panel truck waiting in the oncoming lane. Metal grated as she broke free and kept going.
“What are you doing?” Fikret demanded. He held on to the door. “You weren’t supposed to turn.”
Ajza straightened the wheels and sped down the street. The heavy traffic looked problematic. She shifted gears and gained speed. A taxi stopped in front of her to pick up a fare. Ajza pulled to the left and narrowly avoided it. The truck’s bumper scraped the side of a car, setting off a cascade of car horns.
“Stop!” Fikret roared. “Stop the truck now!” He reached for the steering wheel.
Ajza grabbed the pistol from under her thigh and clubbed the big man in the face with it. Blood spouted from his nose and he drew back, cursing in pain and anger.
“Get out,” Ajza commanded. She pointed the pistol at him.
“What?”
“Get out of the truck.” Ajza glanced in the side mirrors and saw that the rest of the convoy were hot on her heels. They closed the gap rapidly.
Fikret didn’t move. He had one massive hand clamped to his nose. He reached for his rifle with the other.
Ajza fired her pistol and missed the big man’s head by inches. The bullet slammed into a building at the side of the street.
“Get out!” she shouted over the ringing din of the pistol report. “Or I put the next one through your head.”
Fikret swung the door open and turned to leap out. Fear held him frozen.
Ajza turned in the seat, raised a leg and shoved her foot hard between Fikret’s shoulder blades. He grunted as his breath left his lungs. He lost his grip on the door frame and tumbled out.
In the next instant the open door collided with a parked truck. The window shattered and glass fragments peppered the inside of the truck. The impact slammed the door shut with a metallic screech.
Ajza’s heart pounded as she looked at the side mirror. The two vehicles tailing her pulled up alongside. Their occupants, men with whom she had eaten dinner the night before, brandished guns. A couple of them fired their weapons, and bullets ricocheted from the truck’s cab and tore through the body.
Wrenching the wheel, Ajza slammed into the lead car. The truck’s greater bulk shoved the car sideways. The car plowed through an outdoor café, narrowly missing the few patrons sitting there with coffee and breakfast. The car crashed into the corner of the next building.
Ajza hoped that Nazmi wasn’t in the car. She liked him. She focused on her driving and spotted a police vehicle at the light ahead of her. Two police officers occupied the vehicle, but neither of them noticed the wreck Ajza left in her wake.
She tapped the brake and pulled to the left again. But she allowed her front bumper to scrape across the police vehicle’s back bumper. Although she’d tried to keep the collision to a minimum, the force spun the police car halfway around.
“All right,” Ajza said, glancing in the side mirror as she passed the police car, “come get me.”
The police car’s lights came on and the siren screamed to life. Two cars bearing Mustafa’s men roared past it.
Traffic became more difficult the closer she got to the harbor area. She braked and downshifted almost constantly to avoid smashing into vehicles. The truck’s transmission groaned as she kept up the pace. Bullets smacked into the truck’s rear.
Ajza’s gut twisted as she thought about the explosion waiting to erupt if anything especially potent in the crates got hit. She took evasive action, swinging wildly across the street to block the cars zooming up behind her.
She tried to push one of them into a nearby building, but the driver pulled back and she only rammed into the building herself. Something fell in the truck’s cargo area. Ajza waited for the detonation. Nothing happened.
Lying on the horn as she powered into the last intersection, she headed for the pier. She didn’t know where she was, but the broad expanse of gray-green water in front of her told her she’d reached the harbor. Ships and boats sat at anchorage.
The large cranes and forklifts marked the area as one of the commercial districts. Men dodged out of the way as she barreled through. Another blistering hail of bullets raked the back of the truck. The side mirror on her door suddenly shattered and flew away. The metal housing came loose and battered the door.
The truck roared across the pier. Ajza continued to lean on the horn. One man abandoned a forklift and left it in her path. She swerved and tried not to hit it full on.
The impact strained Ajza’s seat belt. The stiff material bit into the flesh of her hips and upper body. Crates in the back rushed forward and smashed against the cab.
Ajza screamed a curse. The forklift slid away in pieces and she continued down the pier. The right front tire pulled at the steering. The wobble told her that the collision had deflated the tire or ripped it to shreds. Her arms ached with the effort of holding the truck on course.
She aimed for the end of the pier and never lifted her foot from the accelerator. The image in the rearview mirror of Mustafa and the others bearing down on her guaranteed the lack of choice.
Ajza unfastened the seat belt and kept her foot on the accelerator. She prayed that God still watched over fools as the sounds of gunfire and police sirens filled her ears.
10
London
“She did not just do that,” tech support said in Samantha’s ear.
Samantha couldn’t believe the woman survived the collision with all the munitions in the back of the truck.
“That is one gutsy bird,” the head computer programmer said as he stared at the screen with a big grin. “I think I’m in love.”
They all stared at the screen as the truck and Ajza disappeared into the ocean.
“My God,” Samantha breathed.
“What?” Kate asked.
Knowing Kate lacked visual access while she left the apartment in New York, Samantha ignored the request for information for the moment.
“Later,” she said. “Red Team?”
“We’re here, Indigo.”
“Are you mobile?”
“Since the convoy started up.”
That was good, Samantha told herself. She looked at the lead computer operator. He nodded and tapped on a keyboard.
Almost immediately the satellite view split on the wall screen. One side stayed with the white-capped wake that remained from the truck’s plunge into the sea. The other shifted to a street scene. A yellow spotlight circled an SUV.
“Hold your position,” Samantha said.
“Did she make it?” the Red Team Leader asked.
“So far. Are you prepared for an exfiltration?”
“Affirmative. Red Team is ready to rock and roll. Especially for that hard-driving lady.”
Yanks, Samantha thought. All of them had showoff tendencies.
“If she survived, I’d like to try to get her home in one piece,” she said.
On the wall screen, she saw Mustafa’s men bring