Chapter 8 - Collision Course in the Dark
The blinding glare of the SUV’s high beams washed over the alley, painting the falling rain in harsh, silver strokes.
“Get in!” Vance screamed, shoving Elena toward the passenger seat of the unmarked sedan just as the heavy thud of tires tearing through standing water echoed terrifyingly close.
Elena scrambled inside, pulling her black handbag across her lap as Vance slammed his own door shut and jammed the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered once, twice, and then roared to life with an angry growl.
Before Vance could shift into gear, the black SUV slammed its bumper directly into the rear quarter-panel of their sedan with a sickening crunch of metal. The impact threw Elena violently against the passenger-side window, knocking the wind from her lungs.
“Hold on!” Vance yelled, twisting the steering wheel hard to the left and flooring the gas pedal.
The sedan fishtailed across the wet asphalt, its tires smoking as it broke free of the alley and shot out onto the main thoroughfare. In the side-view mirror, Elena caught a brief glimpse of the driver in the pursuing SUV: a faceless silhouette wearing a dark tactical mask.
They tore through the city streets, running red lights and splashing terrified pedestrians as Vance pushed the unmarked car past its limits. The rain beat a frantic rhythm against the windshield, blurring the neon signs of downtown into streaks of red and green.
“Are they still behind us?” Elena asked, twisting around in her seat to look through the rain-streaked rear window.
“Lost them a block back by taking that tight turn under the elevated train,” Vance panted, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. But his relief was short-lived. He glanced down at the dashboard, where a small digital tracker was beeping furiously with a flashing red light. “Damn it. They tagged our bumper with a GPS beacon back at the archive.”
“Can you take it off?”
“Not while we’re moving at eighty miles an hour.” Vance frowned, taking a sharp right turn toward the sprawling, cavernous structure of the central transit station. “We have to ditch this car right now and blend into the commuter crowd.”
They screeched to a halt in the subterranean parking garage beneath the transit hub. Without wasting a second, Vance killed the engine, grabbed his trench coat, and led Elena toward the pedestrian tunnel.
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As they pushed through the heavy glass doors into the bustling, brightly lit concourse, Elena felt a sudden cold chill run down her spine. Standing by the ticket kiosks, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit that looked remarkably like her father’s, was an unfamiliar man who turned his head and locked eyes directly on her with a chilling, predatory smile.
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