“Dad, I don’t like this. Let’s just drive down to Boston. We can be
there in four or five hours. We’ll hook up with Mom and Amy and find
another computer tomorrow morning.”
Her father’s face assumed a very stubborn look. “In this weather?
The highway’s probably closed. Hell, most of the state of Maine closes
down this time of year. We’re almost there. You stay in the car, keep
it running and I’ll be back before you can count to ten.”
“But Dad–”
“Sidney, there’s nobody around. We’re all alone. I’ll take my shotgun.
You think somebody would try anything? Just wait by the side of the
road. Don’t pull in the driveway, you’ll get stuck.”
Sidney finally gave in and did as she was told. Her father got out of
the car, leaned back in and, with a grin on his face, said, “Start
counting to ten.”
“Just hurry, Dad!”
She anxiously watched as he trudged through the snow, shotgun in hand.
Then she began to scan the street. Her father was probably right. As
she glanced down at the package containing the disk, she picked it up
and put it in her purse. She wasn’t going to lose it again. She jerked
up suddenly as a light came on in the house. Then she caught her
breath. Her father needed to see where he was going.
They were almost there. A minute later she looked over at the house as
the front door closed and footsteps approached the car. Her father had
made good time.
“Sidney.” She jerked her head upward and stared in horror as her father
burst onto the second-story deck. “Run.f”
In the blinding white of the snow, she could see hands grabbing her
father, pulling him roughly down. She heard him scream again over the
wind and then she didn’t hear him anymore. Headlights hit her in the
face. As she whirled around to stare out the windshield, the white van
was almost on her. It must have been driving before without its lights
on.
Then she saw the shadowy figure next to the car and watched in horror as
the muzzle of a machine gun started its ascent toward her head. All in
one motion she hit the automatic door locks, slammed the car in reverse
and hit the accelerator. As she threw herself down sideways in the
seat, a burst from the machine gun strafed the front of the Cadillac,
shooting out the passenger-side window and shattering half the
windshield. The front end of the heavy vehicle slid sharply sideways
under the sudden surge, thudded into human flesh and sent the gunman
flying into a snowdrift. The wheels of the Caddie finally burned
through the layers of snow, hit asphalt and leaped backward. Covered
with bits of glass, Sidney sat back up, fighting to get control of the
spinning car as she watched the van bearing down on her. She backed
down the street until she had just passed the intersection leading away
from the beach. Then she slammed the car in drive, punched the gas and
fishtailed through the intersection.
The car flew forward, kicking snow, salt and gravel in its wake. The
next minute she was hurtling down the road; snow and wind screamed into
the Cadillac’s new multiple openings. She looked in the rearview
mirror. Nothing. Why weren’t they following her? She almost
immediately answered her own question as her mind began to function
again. Because now they had her father.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Here we go, guys, hang on.” Kaplan cut the airspeed, manipulated the
plane’s controls, and the aircraft, rocking and swaying, suddenly burst
through the low cloud cover. A few miles ahead, lit wands, stuck in the
hard ground, signaled the outlines of the airstrip. Kaplan eyed the
illuminated path to safety and a proud grin spread across his face.
“Damn, I’m good.”
The Saab landed barely a minute later in a swirl of snow. Sawyer had
the door open before the plane had even stopped rolling. He sucked in
huge amounts of the frigid air and his nausea quickly passed. The HRT
members stumbled off, several of them sitting down on the ice-sheathed
tarmac, breathing deeply. Jackson was the last off. A recovered Sawyer