by G. C. Harmon
Belton had stumbled back and tripped, sprawling onto his back at the base of the stairs. Conner reached down and grabbed a handful of the man’s robes, pulling him to his feet. He yanked him toward a hallway, and an open door that led to the courtyard within the walls. He pushed Belton through that door, and the monk stumbled out into the courtyard, falling on his face. The faces of a dozen monks turned suddenly at the commotion, and there were startled whispers at the intrusion.
“Find him,” Conner barked to the others.
Deirdre approached two monks standing nearby. She ripped the wide-brimmed sunhat off one, then grabbed the cheek of the other to turn his head. She moved on to another group near a blooming garden, checking their faces. Liam meanwhile approached the door of some kind of living quarters. He kicked it open, found no one inside and moved on to the door next to it. He then approached the chapel. He threw open the door and marched up the aisle, searching every pew and finding no one inside.
Conner stood over Belton, who sat on the ground cowering. The Irishman watched his comrades as they conducted a cursory search and then turned to him, bearing no fruit. Conner looked down at the monk, then suddenly lashed out with a vicious kick that connected with the monk’s jaw and broke a couple teeth. “Where is he?”
“Who do you seek?” Belton begged, knowing the answer.
“The Irish priest. I know he was here!”
“We have had no visitors!” Belton screamed.
Conner raised his gun, shouting, “Tell me!”
“No!” One of the monks near him screamed, and suddenly lunged at him. But he was too far away to save Belton, or himself. Conner simply turned and fired a single round into his gut. The man grunted and sank to his knees, landing right next to a terrified Belton.
“How many more do I have to kill?” he shouted at the monk. “I’ll kill them all if you don’t tell me where the priest is!”
“They left us! Just minutes ago!” Belton screamed in anguish, pain from his damaged mouth and guilt for his dying friend and betraying the priest. “Please, we have done nothing to harm you, we have committed no trespass against you.”
“Who’s they?” Conner demanded.
“He was taken by some policemen,” the monk whimpered.
Deirdre heard this. “The police!” she shouted, running up to Conner. “I saw them. Getting on the freeway. We’re only minutes behind them!”
That realization hit Conner. “Go!” he shouted, and she bolted past him for the door.
As she left, Conner raised his gun at the monk, his finger tightening on the trigger. But Liam’s firm hand on his shoulder stayed his trigger finger. “No, boyo,” he said quietly, “We’ve done enough here.”
Conner froze, standing over the monk with his pistol raised, but then broke off and headed for the door.
Deirdre headed around to the driver’s seat. The back doors slammed with the others inside. As Conner climbed in next to her, he said, “You saw them? You’re sure about this?”
“Yes! I saw two Police SUVs getting on the freeway, southbound, as we passed underneath. It wasn’t ten minutes ago.” She floored the gas, and they sprayed dirt and gravel as they headed back down the road. In two minutes, they careened onto the freeway, and she cranked her speed up to eighty miles per hour. In two more minutes, they turned off Highway 101 onto California Highway 46, called Green Valley Road.
Steve drove the lead vehicle, scanning the terrain ahead as they cruised through the coastal mountains. In areas further north, these mountains would be flush with redwood trees, thick forests that stretched far up into neighboring states. This far south, the hills were grassland spotted with copses of oak trees and wild bushes. One thing Steve noted a lot of was wineries. It seemed every hillside had a vineyard, and every vineyard had pristine landscaping, a large elegant house and wine-tasting or restaurant business on site.
In the second vehicle, the members of Special Forces were bantering away. In their time working together, the four of them had become close friends, so they of course knew how to make each other laugh. But they’d also been working for the legendary Steve Blazer, and each had learned a great deal from him in the ways of combat. Some things, like their powers of observation, had been greatly enhanced while working Special Forces.
“I, for one,” Scot was saying, “am glad that this case didn’t take that dark turn.”
“Which turn is that?” Dave asked.
“I’m glad this guy turned out not to be a child molester. I’ve worked a few of those cases. It rips your heart out.”
“Any case with kids rips your heart out,” A.J. said. “But they do seem to surface within the Catholic Church with some regularity.”
“Why is that?” Scot asked. “You said you were Catholic, right?”
“Lapsed. I’m one of those guys who only shows up on holidays.”
“We know why it happens,” Dave said. His voice was quiet, but they detected the edge of anger in it.
“You’re Catholic too, aren’t you?” Scot asked.
“Technically. I haven’t been to a church in fifteen years.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
Dave sighed. “I had religion shoved down my throat my entire life. As I got older, it seemed so hypocritical. All the rituals lost their meaning. My parents were not perfect, but I guess they believed in the faith. But I watched all my gangster cousins committing their sins, only to BS their way through a confession and contrition and go right back to bangin’. Once I joined the Army, I quit going and never looked back.”
“Until today?” Brian asked.
Dave sneered. “Yeah. Today, I got to the crime scene before any of you, and I just sat in my car outside, trying to find an excuse not to go in. Steve’s Dad is right, that church has a really bad history. They use guilt and dogma to control their masses. It’s less so now, but they still do it.” He paused. “Then again, if I hadn’t gone in, I never would have met Sheila, that CSI. Damn, she was something.”
Brian smiled. “A reason to go back to church.”
“Hardly,” Dave said. He glanced in his mirror. A light colored SUV rounded a curve a half mile behind them. It appeared to be closing the distance, like it was trying to catch up to them.
They wound through the hills, zipping past the wineries, pushing their speeds on the curves and opening up to near seventy miles per hour on the rare straightaways. While Deirdre concentrated on driving, Conner scanned the road ahead. It was nearly thirty minutes later when they round a curve on Green Valley Road and spotted a black SUV maybe half a mile ahead of them. “It’s them,” Deirdre shouted, “It’s got to be.”
“Well, catch up to them, woman!” Conner urged. He pulled his Colt .45 out and quickly checked his load. Behind him, Liam and the others did the same.
Deirdre floored the gas.
Dave’s mood had darkened a bit when he was put on the spot about his religious history, but they quickly moved on to conversing about other topics. Dave, however, became distracted by the vehicle that was rushing up behind them. On a straightaway, the SUV was about a half mile behind. However, they rounded a curve, putting the vehicle out of sight…for just a few seconds. Quicker than it should have, the SUV was careening around the curve and once again closing on them.
“Guys,” he announced, “I have a green Dodge Durango coming up fast behind us.”
The three others turned in their seats to look. “There’s no way this is just someone in a rush,” Scot said.
The vehicle rocked visibly as it slowed behind them, as if someone had slammed on the brakes. Scot had a quick idea and flicked on their red and blue lights, front and rear. He looked at Dave and said, “If it is just someone in a hurry, maybe this will slow them down.” He didn’t add that the group in the first vehicle might see their lights and at least be alerted.
Sure enough, seconds later, Scot’s phone rang. Dave looked over at him as Black answered, “Hey, Cap. We have a suspicious vehicle running up behind us.” Move
ment behind and a sudden abbreviated screech of tires alerted everyone. Scot looked and said, “Oh, shit, he’s coming alongside us.”
They were now traveling up one hillside, with a steeper grade. The road was a mere two lanes, but Deirdre spotted a sign ahead. “Passing lane coming.”
“Pull up beside them,” Conner demanded. “I want to get a look inside and see if he’s there.”
The cop car’s emergency lights suddenly came on. Trying to scare us off, Conner thought. It wasn’t going to work. When the passing lane opened up, Deirdre swung left and sped up.
Conner had donned a pair of sunglasses, and as the racing vehicle pulled up alongside the cop car, he stared out. The police vehicle’s windows were not tinted, so he was easily able to get a look at the four men inside, even as they stared back at him.
“He’s not there,” Conner announced.
“We should take them out right here,” Liam announced from the back seat. He lifted his .45 and checked his load as he hit the button to lover the automatic window.
Conner’s gaze darted back and forth between the police vehicle, and road ahead, where the other vehicle, which probably hid the priest, sped ahead, starting into the next curve.
Conner suddenly reached over and grabbed the wheel by Deirdre’s hand, wrenching it hard right.
“Whoa!” Dave shouted as the SUV suddenly lunged to the right. The front fender bumped his, and he steered away to avoid a worse collision.
The other vehicle’s driver had timed the maneuver just right. The road ahead was cut through a hillside, with embankments on either side. It then dropped a short distance and curved left. The Police SUV was knocked aside, and Dave fought the wheel as they drifted a few feet up the embankment on their right. They then bumped and bounced onto a small turnout that looked out over a green meadow. The turnout was bordered by a guardrail that kept vehicles from driving over the edge and down a steep embankment into the meadow. The SUV dropped from the embankment onto the gravel turnout.
Dave felt the vehicle drifting to the right and steered into it, at the same time slamming on the brakes. Next to him, Scot looked out the right side window, seeing the edge of the overlook looming closer.
The skidding vehicle sent a shower of loose gravel flying. The right rear fender slid into the guardrail wrenching several of the wooden posts out of the muddy ground. They came to rest wedged against the guardrail, with one wheel teetering on the edge.
Dave took a breath. “Everyone OK?” He received a chorus of positive responses.
Scot immediately took out his cell phone, redialing Stanson. “Cap, that son of a bitch just ran us off the road. They’re going to be coming up behind you.”
Dave found the engine still running. He hit the gas. Metal whined against metal for one second as they tore their right side away from the guard rail. The SUV lurched back onto the road.
In the driver’s seat, Steve glanced over at the Captain. Holding his phone to his ear, Stanson turned in his seat. “Coming up behind us,” he warned Steve. In the back seat, the others turned to investigate as well.
Steve checked his mirror. He saw the suspicious SUV closing. He did not see the second Ford Expedition. “Where are the guys?”
“They’re OK. They got run off the road, but they’re still behind us.”
They rounded a curve onto a straightaway, and Steve punched the gas, redlining the speedometer up to seventy. He watched the SUV behind them. They sped up as well, but the distance remained. However, the next curve was only a quarter mile away, and he eased off the gas to gauge it. The SUV began to close the gap.
Going around another curve, Steve was watching the mirrors closely, but he had to slam on the brakes suddenly as they bore down behind a slow-moving pickup truck.
The green Durango suddenly swung into the oncoming lane and came up beside them, tires giving a screech as they slowed to match speeds.
Steve glanced at the vehicle, saw the dark haired man with the sunglasses sitting in the passenger seat. Blazer’s eyes darted between him and the truck in front of them.
“It’s Conner!” Fitzhugh shouted from the back seat.
Nice to put a face to the enemy, Steve thought. But then saw both passenger side windows sliding down. He got a glimpse of handguns. They were trapped, with the truck in front and the enemy vehicle beside them.
Trapped. Like hell.
Steve suddenly wrenched his vehicle to the left.
The fenders of both vehicles bumped and scraped, and the force of the Ford drove the Durango away across the oncoming lane.
“Shite!” Deirdre screamed as the vehicle careened into them, pushing them across the road. In the back seat, Liam had been trying to pull his pistol from beneath his jacket, but the collision jarred him, and he dropped the gun. It bounced off his leg and hit the floor. He reached down and fumbled for it.
Deirdre fought the wheel as their right side wheels drifted off the side of the road, bumping along a rocky drainage gutter. The wheels then drifted onto the short embankment to where they were straddling that gutter. The vehicle bounced along for a moment, threatening to wrest control from her grip on the wheel.
Steve’s maneuver pushed the Durango away from them. He found open road in the oncoming lane and punched the gas, now pulling alongside the slow-moving pickup.
The Durango suddenly lunged back, again sideswiping the Expedition. With the Durango bouncing over the gutter, it continually glanced off the side of the Expedition, battering it over and over. One hard lunge sent the police vehicle drifting right, until it now sideswiped the pickup truck. That driver careened away to the right and slammed on his brakes, leaving the two jousting vehicles to their demolition derby.
A honking horn suddenly grabbed Steve’s attention, and he wrenched the vehicle hard right to avoid an oncoming vehicle, a motorhome. The Expedition drifted back into the correct lane, just missing the RV.
Deirdre froze when she saw the oncoming vehicle. The Police vehicle managed to swerve out of the way. Their Durango was not as fortunate. The side of the vehicle clipped their rear fender, knocking the vehicle into a clockwise spin that the tires on pavement quickly aborted. The Durango fishtailed onto the road, and Deirdre fought the wheel to get the vehicle back under control. She finally won.
The police vehicle was just ahead.
Conner had been holding on for dear life to anything he could grab. Once the vehicle’s moves had calmed down, he put his mind back to business. His window was down. He leaned out, holding his pistol in a two-hand grip and opened up on the back of the Expedition.
Steve watched the road, and the Durango drifting in and out of the view in his mirrors.
The rear windshield of the Ford suddenly shattered, and he felt a bullet whisper past his right ear, where it punched through the front windshield as well. “Get down!” he shouted to those in the back. His dad grabbed the priest and shoved him to the seat, covering him with his own body. Steve got a glimpse of a man—Conner?—leaning out the passenger side, firing a handgun. The back windshield suddenly shattered under a volley of rapid fire, sending everyone ducking.
Stanson turned in his seat, raising his Colt 1911 .45 caliber. Drew and the priest glanced up at him, and he noted the terror on the priest’s eyes. “Stay down,” John said. He aimed out the back window, waiting for the Durango to center itself in his sights. When it did, he blasted off four rounds. They all smacked into the windshield before the driver swerved to avoid more.
“Shite!” Deirdre screamed again as the lead pounded their windshield. Devon sat in the center of the back seat, and one of the rounds gouged a trench into the meat of his shoulder. Liam was splattered with some of his blood as the bullet punched through the seat and out through the rear hatch. The man growled against the pain, grabbing his shoulder. Deirdre swerved left into the oncoming lane to avoid more return fire, then swung back in behind the Ford to avoid another oncoming car, and another blaring horn.
“Give me a gun, I’ll kill the basta
rds!” Devon screamed against the pain in his shoulder. He clamped a hand over the minor wound to staunch the bleeding.
“Get alongside them again,” Conner shouted.
They rounded another bend onto another straightaway. Deirdre scanned the road ahead and swerved again into the oncoming lane. The vehicle gained, starting to come alongside. She glanced over at Conner. He glanced back and offered a wicked grin. “They’re cops, I’m sure they’ve heard of a PIT maneuver.”
He watched their positions carefully. When their front wheels were nearly abreast of the back wheels of the Ford, he glanced at Deirdre and shouted, “Hit them!”
Deirdre swerved to the right.
Beside Blazer, Stanson watched as the Durango came alongside them, but remained slightly behind. “Are they trying to PIT us?”
Steve glanced at is mirror again. They were in the right position for a Pursuit Intervention Technique, where a patrol car would clip the rear fender of a vehicle to send them into a spin and stop them. If that was their intention—
Steve suddenly slammed on his brakes, not stopping their vehicle, but shifting their position. He did so just as the Durango driver swerved into them. Instead of just hitting the rear fender, they sideswiped the entire length of the Expedition. The Ford barely budged from its position. Going into the end of the straightaway, the road curved to the right, and the vehicles continued their side-by-side duel.
Steve spied an oncoming vehicle just ahead. He wrenched his wheel to the left, knocking the Durango away, and then he swerved right again, giving the oncoming vehicle enough room to pass between them.
As the vehicle passed between them, Steve caught a glimpse of the paintjob and was glad he did. He recognized the black and white design of a police Chevy Tahoe. They had encountered a Deputy from the San Luis Obispo County Sheriff’s Department.
