by Andy McNab
"Who are you? Tell me why you're after me!"
I could barely hear his reply. His mouth was dribbling blood, and he was finding it hard to breathe.
"Let me go, man. Just leave me here and I'll tell you."
No way was I falling for that one.
"You're going to die soon. Tell me and I'll help you. Why are you trying to kill us? Who are you?"
His head lolled. He didn't reply because he couldn't.
I found them just short of the Beltway, in the middle of the three lanes. It was easy to pick them out in my headlights. I could see
they were still three up; one in the front, two in the back. No sign of Kelly but there was enough space between the two in the back to have another body between them. She was only a little fucker; her head wouldn't be showing.
I couldn't do anything on the freeway, so now was the time to calm down and get my head around the next plan. What was I going to do? Whatever it was, it had to be soon, because I didn't know their destination, and 1-95 goes all the way to Florida. Much nearer, however, about thirty minutes away, was Quantico, the FBI and DEA academy. It was starting to make sense. Luther and the other guy coming to the house, both knowing Kev; they were all the same group. But why would they kill Kev? And if they were the killers, what connection then did "bad DEA" have with my "friends over the water"? Was there something happening here between these two groups that Kev had discovered and got fucked over for?
I thought again of Florida and it gave me an idea. I tucked it away for later.
I looked down at the driver. He was in shitty shape, still losing blood. He was sitting in a pool of it because the rubber mat in the foot well stopped the carpet from soaking it up. I could see his face as the lights from the opposite side of the freeway hit us now and again; all the agitation had drained from it and he looked ashen, like an old fish; life was slowly going out of his eyes, which were staring into space. He was going to die soon. Tough shit.
I reached over, flipped open his jacket, and took the two magazines that were in a holder on his shoulder holster. He was oblivious to what I was doing; he was in his own place now, perhaps reflecting on his life before he died.
I had surveillance on the target car. My wipers were on high-speed as the trucks and cars splashed more water onto the windshield than the rain itself. I put the defroster on full blast. The driver's leaking blood and my own sweating body were misting the car up big-time.
A freeway was perfect for my purposes; I could just drive along and even allow a bit of distance to develop to the point of letting another car get in between me and the target. As an exit came up I'd just get a little bit closer; if he was going to turn off, I could then fall in naturally and come up behind him.
After about another five minutes I saw a sign saying lorton 1 mile. They started to indicate that they were getting into the right lane to make the exit. They weren't going to Quantico after all. This would be the time to hit them. I glanced down, changed mags, and checked chamber.
As I came across to get into the right lane, I realized for the first time that we were driving through heavily wooded terrain.
The tires throbbed rhythmically as they hit the joints in the concrete freeway.
By now the driver had slumped completely into the foot well with his back against the door. It was only the body armor under his shirt that gave him posture. He was dead.
I was now in the exit lane, just twenty yards behind them, close enough to be on top of them, but far enough away so that if they looked behind, they'd just see headlights. Nobody turned their head; they didn't seem to be aware of me. I started to take deep breaths and spark myself up.
The Lorton exit ramp went slightly uphill with a gentle curve to the right. The tall trees on each side gave the impression of a tunnel. I planned to do it at the first intersection. My brain was in overdrive, getting me into a mind-set, trying to take the fear away.
I could see traffic lights in the middle distance and put my foot on the gas to close up even more. Their brake lights came on, then their right turn signal. A truck thundered past from left to right. It looked like it was a wide major road ahead.
The car started its right turn. Pushing myself back into the seat, I put my foot down hard on the accelerator and braced my arms on the steering wheel.
I must have been doing about forty-five and still accelerating as I drew level and yanked the wheel hard to the right.
My right fender hit the front of theirs. There was a massive jolt. My air bag exploded as the car slewed around into the main drag. The other car spun sideways. I heard glass shattering and the screech of tortured rubber.
The moment the vehicle came to a halt I jabbed at the seatbelt release and opened the door. The air felt freezing. At first all I could hear was the hiss of the radiator and the ping ping ping warning that the door was open and the lights on; then came the sound of muffled shouts from inside the other vehicle.
The first priority was the driver. The car had to be immobilized.
He was still fighting his seat belt. I fired through the windshield. I didn't know where I hit him, but he was down.
As I looked into the back I could see Kelly, or at least her shape. She
was low down in the foot well hands over her ears.
Luther was getting his first rounds off at me. His door was half open, and he was starting to roll out. I'd have been doing the same because a car draws fire--so you need to get out of the way. As he rolled I kept on firing, just below the level of the door. He screamed. I'd got him. I couldn't tell whether it was a direct hit or the splash of the round off the asphalt, but it didn't matter, the effect was the same.
I moved from behind the hood of my car to take on the third guy. He was out now but had had a change of heart. He put his hands up and yelled, "Don't do it, don't do it!" His eyes were like saucers. I double-tapped him in the head.
Kelly was still curled up in a ball in the foot well She wasn't going anywhere.
I searched the two bodies for wallets and magazines. I left Luther for last.
He was on the ground behind his car, hands clutched to his chest.
"Help me... help me... please..."
He'd taken a round in the armpit as he rolled on the ground, and it must have continued on into his chest cavity. I thought of Kev, Marsha, and Aida and kicked. He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle. He was on his way out. Good. Let it happen slowly.
I ran back for Kelly and lifted her out other hiding place. I had to shout at her above her screams.
"It's OK, Kelly. I'm here, it's OK."
I held her tight in my arms. She was nearly deafening me.
"It's all over now! It's OK!"
It wasn't.
The police would be here soon. I looked around. The inter section was with a main road, two lanes in each direction. To my left and downhill was 1-95, crossing the road by a bridge, with a Texaco gas station about four hundred yards away on the other side of it on the right. Uphill and about the same distance away a Best Western hotel cut the skyline.
Lights were coming from the exit road toward us. Luther was lying there softly moaning to himself. He wasn't dead, but it wouldn't be long. The lights came closer.
Kelly was still hysterical. Grabbing her to conceal my pistol, I went behind the two cars. The lights were nearly level with us. I moved out and waved the vehicle down.
The good Samaritans were in a Toyota Previa, man and woman in the front, two kids in the back. I played the traumatized victim for all I was worth, shouting, "Help! Help!" as I rushed to the driver's side. The woman was at the wheel; she opened her door.
"Oh my God, oh my God!" Her husband already had his cell phone out to call for an ambulance.
I put the safety catch on and held the gun against her face.
"Everybody out now! Get out, get out now!" My other arm was windmilling like a madman's. Hopefully they'd think I was one.
"Get out! I'll fucking kill you! Ge
t out!"
The one thing I did know about families is that no one will risk theirs. The husband started to lose it.
"Please don't, please don't!" Then he started to cry.
Kelly had quietened down, listening to my act.
It was the mother who kept her cool.
"OK, we are getting out. Dean, get the kids out. Out!"
Dean got his act together. I yelled at him, "Throw your wallet back inside!"
I pushed Kelly through the sliding door, slammed it shut, ran around to the driver's side, climbed up, and we were off.
I wanted to get away from the initial danger area, then sort myself out. The freeway was out because it would be too easy for the police to pick me up. I drove up onto the intersection and turned left under the bridge, past the garage. The road became a normal two-lane highway, and I put my foot down.
This was no time to be explaining stuff to Kelly. She was curled up in the backseat, sobbing. My adrenaline rush was slowing down, but my face was soaked with sweat and I was lathering up. I took deep breaths, trying to get more oxygen into my body and calm everything down. I felt unbelievably angry with myself for losing control back there. I should have killed Luther right off the bat, not fucked around.
I realized we were heading south, away from the airport.
I'd have to stop and get my shit together instead of just running in a blind panic. I pulled over and checked the road atlas.
Kelly didn't look good, but I didn't have too much of a clue what to say to comfort her. "It's OK now," I tried.
"I told you I was going to look after you, didn't I?"
She looked up at me and nodded, her bottom lip quivering.
I made a decision. Fuck it, let's just go straight to the hotel, get the backup disk, and clear out. I swung the Previa around in a U-turn, heading for the freeway. We stayed on it until we hit the Beltway.
Blue lights flickered toward us. There must have been ten of them. I wasn't worried. Even if they did ID me, they'd have to get across the median.
It took us just under an hour to get to the Economy Inn. We drove straight into the parking lot, and I told Kelly to wait where she was. If she did hear me, there was no reaction. I tried again and got a nod.
I went upstairs, got out my pistol, and went inside. I pulled the bureau onto its side, the TV crashing onto the floor, and ripped the disk away from the tape. If Luther and company were connected with PIRA, they must know I had a disk they had to assume it, anyway. Retrieving the black bag, I went into the bathroom and threw two hand towels into the bath and ran the water. While that was happening I got the plastic laundry bag from the drawer. I put in the wet towels and some soap. I walked out of the room, keeping the do not disturb sign on the handle.
Kelly was still curled up in the backseat. We drove straight down the road to the Marriott.
I parked up alongside a line of cars and pickup trucks and grabbed the towels. The moment I opened the door, Kelly ambushed me, throwing her arms around my neck and clinging hard. Her whole body was shaking.
I lifted her head off my shoulder. Blood from the guy I'd head-jobbed had gone all over my jacket, and now some of it was on her face, too, mixing with her tears. I whispered in her ear, "It's OK now, Kelly, really it is it's all over."
She held on even harder. Her tears were warm and wet on my neck.
I said, "I've got to go and get another car, so I want you to stay here. I won't be long."
I started to lift her away from me to put her back on the seat but she resisted, burying her face into my shoulder. I could feel the heat of her breath through the material of my jacket.
I put my hand on the back of her head and rocked gently.
For a moment I didn't know who was clinging to whom. The idea of what was happening and who might be behind it scared me shitless. I had to confirm what Luther had said, and now was as bad a time as any.
"Kelly, do you know Luther?
Was it true what he said about him coming to pick up Daddy?"
I could feel her head nod slowly against my shoulder.
"I'll never leave you alone again, Kelly. Let's just clean ourselves up a bit, shall we?"
I tried to sound happy as I used one of the wet hand towels to wipe her face.
"If you're going to come with me, I'd better give you a really important job. I want you to look after the bag while I go and get a car, OK?"
"OK."
As she dried herself I checked the wallets. Just over two hundred dollars in all.
The parking lot surrounded the whole hotel and was lit only by borrowed light from the street. The area dividers that made it easier for people to find their cars were waist-high bushes and shrubs, with small trees around the main perimeter. There was plenty of shadow.
I positioned Kelly in a clump of shrubbery with the bag.
"Don't come out until I stop the car and get out to fetch the bag,
OK?"
"Will I be able to see you?" she whispered as she put her hood up. Her coat was already wet from the leaves.
"I want to see you."
I had my eye on a family-size Dodge among the long lines of cars. I said, "See that big blue car over there? That's the one I'm going to pick up." I didn't actually want to tell her I was going to steal it, which seemed crazy after what had just happened.
It took about five minutes to break in. The vehicle started immediately. I put the windshield wipers and defroster on high, rubbing the inside of the screen with my sleeve. I backed up to the bushes, stopped, and got out. Kelly climbed into the front with a big smile, and we started off. I stopped.
"Seat belt!"
She put it on.
We headed south on 1-95. About twenty miles before the Lorton exit we came across temporary traffic signs warning us that the junction was closed off. As we crossed the bridge, I looked down to my right and got a bird's-eye view of the shooting. Police cars dotted the area, red and blue lights flashing. I didn't slow down with the rest of the traffic to take a closer look.
The gas gauge showed three-quarters full, so we could gain a decent distance before refueling. I turned on the radio, surfing the channels to find some news.
There was quite a lot of traffic, which was good because it made us just one of many, but the highway itself was mesmerizingly boring. The only variant was that sometimes it was two lanes, then three, then back to two. At least it had stopped raining.
After a hundred miles or so I was exhausted and my eyes were starting to sting. I stopped for gas just over the Virginia-North Carolina border and continued on south.
Kelly was asleep in the back.
By 1 a.m. we had traveled about 170 miles, but at least the speed limit was higher now, up from sixty miles an hour to seventy. I kept seeing
large billboards featuring a cartoon of a Mexican, advertising a place called South of the Border. That would be our next stop in two hundred miles' time.
We crossed into South Carolina at about 5 a.m. South of the Border, just a mile or two farther down the road, turned out to be a mixture of service area and amusement park. It was probably a great hit with families going to and from the beaches of North and South Carolina. It covered a huge area and included beachwear shops, grocery stores, drugstores, even a bar with dancing. It looked as if it was still open, judging by the number of cars parked outside.
I started to fill up with gas. The weather was only a little bit warmer than in D.C." but I could hear the crickets; it definitely felt like I was going south. I was still standing there watching the numbers spin on the pump when a brand-new four-wheel-drive Cherokee rolled up. Rap music blared out as the doors opened. Inside were four white college-age kids, two boys and two girls.
Kelly had already been awoken by the strong white light under the filling station's canopy and now took an interest in the mobile disco. I motioned with my hand through the window to ask her if she wanted a drink. She nodded, rubbing her eyes.
I went inside, picked up some drinks and
sandwiches, and went up to the counter. The cashier, a guy in his late fifties, started totaling up my stuff.
The two girls came in, followed by one of the boys. Both girls had dyed-blond shoulder-length hair. The lad was skinny, pimply, and had an unsuccessful attempt at a goatee.
The cashier winked and said quietly, "Love is blind." I smiled in agreement.
