Spyder Web (27 page)

‘Good, we’re approaching the construction zone. Time to isolate the target.’

‘I’m in position.’

Falk watched the Mustang merge left, behind the fuel truck, as they approached the construction zone. His driver punched the accelerator, passing the Mustang on the inside. Falk’s van pulled up just beyond the Mustang’s front end and began jockeying to merge.

‘I don’t believe this guy,’Nolan growled.’He comes flying up from behind, trying to beat everyone into the merging lane, and he expects me just to let him in when he cuts it too close.’

‘Aren’t you going to let him in?’ Kelsey asked nervously as she watched the van trying to nudge itself into their lane. ‘It looks like he’s trying to squeeze over.’

‘he’s a jerk, so he can wait.’

Nolan gave the accelerator pedal a slight nudge and the gap between the Mustang and the truck closed to three feet. The van’s driver flipped Nolan the finger and roared ahead.

Kelsey sighed with relief when the van passed. ‘That guy is one serious asshole.’

‘Yeah, it’s a shame they don’t test for that when you get your license.’

‘Sorry, Vince,’ Falk’s driver apologized.

‘Not your fault. We’ll just have to improvise. Merge in front of this truck and slow down once the road narrows to one lane.’ The van roared ahead and cut over with only fifty feet remaining in the merging lane.

‘Jack, are you still in position?’

The pickup driver’s voice crackled back in Falk’s headset: ‘I’m right behind him.’

The two eastbound lanes of the highway narrowed to one that was then channeled across the median and onto the westbound side of the road. A temporary concrete barrier was all that separated the two single lanes of opposing traffic. With a concrete wall to the left and a construction zone to the right, most drivers on the twelve-foot-wide strip of road felt like they were running a gauntlet. Nolan eased back on his accelerator, widening the gap between the truck and his beloved pony car. A beat-up red pickup truck closed in from behind, its grille filling the Mustang’s rearview mirror.

Nolan glanced in his mirror at the tailgating pickup truck. ‘I wonder if that guy is related to that jerk who passed us.’

Kelsey eased her seat back. ‘Why?’

‘No reason. he’s just riding my rear close enough to kiss me, and I’d hate to see him mess up my chrome.’

The freeway wasn’t very busy, which provided Falk with the best possible conditions for the hit.

The driver in the red pickup responded to Falk’s request by reaching out through his rear window to locate the quick-release fittings that held a set of cables tightly over the load of hay bales in the pickup’s flatbed. He twisted the fittings and the cables sprang loose. Almost immediately, the bales began bouncing and shifting freely. The driver then ran the pickup over a few nasty potholes, and his load of bales tumbled onto the highway.

‘We’re all set back here,’ Jack reported once the lane of traffic behind him screeched to a halt.

‘Good work,’Falk replied.’Watch for your cue to bump and grind.’

Falk nodded to his driver, who slowed the van to forty miles per hour. In minutes, a quarter-mile-long gap opened between the van and the next car on the road ahead; the four-vehicle procession was completely isolated on the one-lane stretch of highway.

Falk fed a clip into his silenced semiautomatic pistol and flipped the safety off. ‘Keep the van steady while I take out this truck.’

‘I wonder what that bonehead’s problem is,’ Hooks muttered bitterly. ‘First he races up to cut us off and now he’s slowing to a crawl. See if you can get him back up to the speed limit.’

Smith narrowed the gap between his rig and the van and flashed the high beams.’Maybe I can encourage him to pick up the pace.’

As the van drew close to the truck’s front bumper, the rear doors swung open and the truckers saw the gunman.

‘Holy shit!’ Hooks yelled. ‘Back off, Kent!’

The truck’s gears ground in protest as Smith downshifted and braked. ‘You don’t have to tell me twice. I just hope the bastard doesn’t shoot.’

Falk balanced himself carefully on the van’s rear deck and took aim. His first burst ripped into the front wheel on the driver’s side of the truck. The tire disintegrated into a hundred pieces of rubber. The truck’s cab shuddered and lurched into the concrete barrier, sending a shower of sparks onto a car in the westbound lane. Falk watched as the wide-eyed driver fought furiously to bring his rig under control. He then aimed at the truck’s remaining front wheel, shredding it as easily as the first.

‘Nolan, watch out!’ Kelsey screamed as the first pieces of the shredded tires pelted the Mustang like blackened hail.

‘I see it,’ Nolan replied with a focused calm. ‘He must have had a blowout. Hang on!’

Kilkenny’s white-knuckled hands were locked on the wheel as he tried to avoid the flying debris and distance himself from the damaged truck. He braked, only to feel his car suddenly lurch forward. Kelsey jerked in her seat again as the pickup struck from behind a second time.

As the semI’s trailer bounced off the barrier and ricocheted to the open side of the road, the pickup rammed the Mustang from behind at full speed. The car’s taillights shattered and the deck lid crumpled from the impact with the pickup’s concrete-filled steel-pipe bumper. The rear window of the Mustang exploded in a spray of glass fragments.

The pickup backed off and then accelerated again, ramming the pony car into the gap between the flailing semI’s trailer and the concrete barrier. The Mustang’s metal skin howled as the trailer’s rear bumper tore into the passenger door, dragging the car against the concrete barricade.

Back and forth Smith fought, trying to bring his crippled rig under control. He was down to thirty miles per hour, but it felt more like three hundred. He didn’t know what kind of nut would do something like this, but he planned to kill the one directly in front of him. His trailer started to swing again and Smith compensated, struggling to keep his rig upright and on the road. Behind, he felt a strange tugging, as if his trailer had gotten caught in something.

‘Nolan!’

Kelsey’s frantic scream was cut short by a second collision between the semI’s rear wheel carriage and the passenger side of the Mustang. The Mustang’s passenger door caved in, showering her with glass from the windshield and door. The trailer’s rear bumper speared through the Mustang’s left side, just behind the door, and locked the two vehicles together. Nolan and Kelsey were nearly jarred from their seats when the semI’s trailer pounded the car against the construction barriers.

Kilkenny’s shoulder burned with pain after bouncing off his door. Kelsey was flung forward with the impact, her head connecting with the dashboard before she snapped back into her seat, unconscious. Were it not for her seat belt, she would have been thrown across the hood to her death. Kilkenny held on to the wheel, but he had no control over where his car was going.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Hooks screamed as the entire rig shuddered and nearly jackknifed.

The semI’s nose skipped off the concrete roadway and dug itself into the soft sand of the shoulder. As the front bumper burrowed deep into the ground, the trailer snapped outward like a whip into the median. The semI’s sudden stop sent the fuel inside the tanker rushing forward in a violent swirl that shifted the trailer’s weight off its wheels and into a roll.

As the trailer rolled right, its rear bumper lifted the right side of the Mustang off the road. Nolan leaned inward as the roof of his car scraped along the concrete barrier. Halfway into the roll, the trailer’s bumper pulled loose, leaving the Mustang upended on the driver’s side.

The fuel trailer, still three-quarters’ full, continued to roll as the liquid inside shifted with the momentum of the turn. Hooks and Smith didn’t have time to recover from the jarring stop when their rig rolled onto the gravel bed created for the highway’s refurbished eastbound lanes. Sand and gravel flew into the air as the semI’s nose was pulled free from the ground by the roll. The cylindrical fuel tank ruptured when it struck the ground, pouring hundreds of gallons of fuel into the median.

Gasoline flowed like a waterfall from the broken tanker and soaked into the ground surrounding the over-turned rig. A wave of fuel rushed down toward the cab, where it splashed against the semI’s hot, twisted exhaust stacks. Flames flashed instantly across the surface of the growinG pond of gasoline, until they reached the fumes contained inside the ruptured tanker. The explosion sent a billowing yellow-black fireball into the sky. Hooks and Smith died instantly in the blast-their bodies trapped and incinerated inside the overturned rig.

The Mustang rocked from the blast, shaken enough that it fell back onto its wheels. Kelsey slumped lifelessly in the seat beside Nolan, blood visible from the cuts on her face and arms. Nolan was still groggy from the crash, but he didn’t need to move to feel the bruises that covered his entire body. The pain in his head told him that his skull had bounced off something hard, but at least he was still alive.

He tried to survey the scene outside his car, but his eyes were watery and his vision blurred by the salty blood that flowed from his forehead. Flames and smoke billowed from the fuel truck and he could feel the intense heat of the blaze. Both doors were jammed, and he hoped that his car was far enough away from the inferno. A van stopped on the road ahead and a person got out and started walking toward them. Help was on the way.

Falk didn’t bother to check on the two truckers trapped inside the burning rig; they were already dead. All that remained was to verify that the couple was dead and leave before the police arrived. If they were still alive, he’d finish the job. The hay bales they’d dropped had stopped traffic several miles back from the accident scene, and he figured that he had about two minutes to escape unobserved.

Kilkenny watched the man’s approach-it was cautious, but pointed directly at the battered Mustang. Nolan was ready to call out when he noticed the elongated pistol in the man’s left hand. Even in his battered state, he knew that Good Samaritans didn’t carry silenced weapons. Kilkenny remained motionless, watching through the slits of his eyes as the stranger advanced.

Falk studied the two forms inside the Mustang carefully as he approached. The passenger was slumped forward, almost on her knees. The driver lay back against his seat, with one arm hanging out the battered door. Both looked dead from where he stood, but he needed to confirm the kill before he could collect the rest of his fee.

He walked over to the driver’s side, shuffling sideways in the narrow space between the car and the barrier, and placed two fingers on Kilkenny’s neck.

With a swift motion, Kilkenny’s left arm shot up from the door and hammered a pressure point in Falk’s forearm just below the elbow. The nerves in Falk’s arm flared with pain for a moment before going completely numb from the blow. Before Falk could react, Kilkenny flipped his fist over and drove it upward into the assassin’s jaw. Kilkenny’s fist glanced off Falk’s chin and continued upward, where it connected solidly with his nose. Blood and tears flowed around Falk’s eyes as the fragile bones shattered.

Falk rocked back, dizzy and partially blinded by the blow to his face. Blood hammered around his skull, which throbbed with pain. Kilkenny reached out with his right arm and grabbed Falk’s weapon hand, pulling the killer against the car with a quick, violent motion. Falk’s chest and abdomen bounced off the door, the air bursting from his lungs on impact. Despite the blow, Falk still held on to his weapon.

Gasping for breath, Falk threw his right forearm across Kilkenny’s face and drew back his weapon to fire. Kilkenny slammed both of Falk’s arms up violently into the car’s roof; the blow knocked the pistol from the killer’s hand and into the Mustang’s rear seat. Falk’s belt buckle glistened with the fire’s reflection, a glowing target through the shattered window of Kilkenny’s door. Pinning Falk’s arms with his left forearm, Kilkenny struck just above the killer’s groin with the flat palm of his right hand. The angle and force of Kilkenny’s attack lifted Falk several inches off the ground, jamming him against the concrete barrier. Falk’s pelvis made an audible snap as it cracked in two and twisted against the tail of his spine.

Falk staggered as his body lost all its strength. Shock would soon give way to unconsciousness and finally death from internal bleeding. Kilkenny locked eyes with the killer as the last flickers of understanding died out and the penetrating stare glazed over. Falk’s body went limp and Kilkenny released his hold, letting the unconscious form slide to the ground.

The wind shifted and sent a black curl of oily smoke over the Mustang and across Kilkenny’s face. The eddies and whorls seemed to drift with an unnatural sluggishness to Kilkenny, who was in a deeply focused mind-set, his warrior one. All his senses were charged.

He’d eliminated one threat and was searching for any others through the haze. His search stopped on what he thought was a person in the road ahead. The figure stood motionless, fading in and out of Kilkenny’s vision as the billowing clouds of blackened smoke passed between them. He tried hard to focus clearly on the figure, but the air around him seemed to thicken as the smoke mixed with steam from the Mustang’s cracked radiator.

Kilkenny’s eyes burned as he tried to stare through the smoke and blood that obscured his vision. He began to suspect what he saw was simply a mirage, when the wind shifted and the smoke began to clear. Not ten feet from Kilkenny stood an Asian man staring directly back at him. The man made no move toward him, but Kilkenny felt an intense rage, as if they were sworn enemies. He’d never seen the man before, but, like Etienne Masson, the man’s hatred filled the space between them.

He wiped his bloodied face with his sleeve to get a better look, but, as soon as he cleared his eyes, the man was gone. Kilkenny looked around quickly, but he found no sign of the man.