Читать книгу Dead Edge: the gripping political thriller for fans of Lee Child - Jack Ford, Jack Ford - Страница 15

7

O-O Nc6

Cooper put his foot down and drove. Over the mid-section of Weimer Street. Over the sidewalk of Johnson Road. Over anything that got in his path. Swerving. Weaving through traffic. Keeping his eyes out for the cops as he sped down the freeway towards Denver.

Sign read, 60.

Speedometer read, eighty-five.

Sign read, Do Not Pass.

Cooper undertook using the shoulder.

Whatever it took to get there.

Trickles of sweat bled between his fingers, causing his hand to slip as he jabbed at the radio buttons trying to listen to the news of the unfolding events. To anything which would tell him where. How. But as for why, he needed to leave that one for another day.

*

Fifteen minutes in and Cooper was gripping onto the Honda’s steering wheel as if he had it in some kind of neck lock. Keeping it from running right out from under him. He was wired and if the drugs had worn off he couldn’t tell. The adrenalin hitting him harder than any handful of OxyContin ever could.

A couple of hundred yards past the Denver health center at the top of Bannock street, the crowd worked better than any satnav could, showing Cooper he’d arrived at his destination. A phalanx of the bewildered, of the traumatized, of cops, of news anchors, formed and filled the street.

Not bothering for the car to stop fully, nor waiting to turn off the engine, Cooper opened the door. Jumped out and raced into the crowds, pushing through, ramming and wedging himself towards the front.

‘Move it…! Move it…! Get the hell out of my way!’

He gave loan of his emotions to a stranger, turning and yelling in his face as if somehow it was he who’d caused this pain… Panic. Terror inside him.

‘Did the bomb go off here…? Where’s the President…? Is he still in the school…? Answer me, dammit.’

The dark-haired stranger’s head lolled back and forth as Cooper held his shoulders. Tight. Shaking. Hell, he just wanted answers and he didn’t care how he was going to get them.

‘No…’

That was all he needed. Didn’t need more. More would’ve cost time.

Frantically, Cooper ran back to the car, and without looking to see if anyone was in his way the Honda burnt up rubber as he reversed the car, taking it into a J-turn.

Clutch in.

Clutch out.

Shift to first.

Up and along the side walk, over the mound, banging the gears full throttle. Didn’t know where he was going but wherever it was he knew he had to find it.

Within five minutes, Cooper had got himself back on the highway and beyond, forcing the rusting station wagon well outside its limits. Sun in his eyes. Pain behind them. A migraine screwing in. He pressed his palm against them to stop the throb. Took his hands off the wheel for only a moment. But he knew that’s all it took.

The Honda swerved, running onto the grassland like a breakaway horse. Smashing and slamming the axle along the rock scattered terrain, dragging the steering off balance as the brakes began to lock.

Fighting to regain control, Cooper drove into a snaking skid whilst the mismatched tires ploughed up the prairies. And although it took less than a minute to pull up sharp, for the second time that day, he trembled as he exhaled. Real long. Real hard.

He rubbed his head, for all the good it did. Glanced at the sun. Knew he was looking due east. And then Cooper looked some more. But it wasn’t the direction that interested him. It was what was on the crest of the hill.

Without hesitation, Cooper floored the accelerator, forcing the old ’83 Honda’s speedometer to touch and quiver at ninety. The engine was racing faster than the car seemed to be able to move. Smoke was billowing up and the smell of burn-out filled the car, but it could’ve blasted right in half for all Cooper cared. As long as it got him over that ditch he was headed for… He angled the car so he could hit it like a ramp. Fast. Forward. But most of all up. Cooper knew it needed to go up.

A dense cloud of smoke thickened in the car’s interior, making it difficult to see, while the car juddered at maximum speed. ‘Come on…! Come on…! Come on!’

Wheels hit the edge at well over a hundred. A brief sense of suspension followed by a bone-shattering impact.

Head flicked back.

Front teeth sunk deep into his tongue.

Blood filled his mouth.

The Honda nose-dived, crashing into the hard ground on the other side. The engine seized and the grey driver’s door swung open. Fell right off.

Desperately, Cooper rolled out. Running. Scrabbling. Holding his shoulder at the same time as trying to pop it back into its socket. He ignored the pain and the cold sweat and the clothes sticking and the blood dripping down his chin like he was the Guacamole guy.

But none of it mattered to Cooper because now he could see the President’s black motorcade in the distance. And as crazy as he knew it was, right there was where he was heading.

*

Cooper felt it before he knew what was happening and it took him clear off his feet. Sending him through the air. Heat and energy expanding, blast-waves of air rushing out from the Honda as it exploded into a fireball of orange flame. Black smoke storming up to fill the skies.

The explosion flung him down as unceremoniously as it’d picked him up. Thundering him into the ground. Pain shot through his ribs, ricocheting into his shoulder, whilst teeth once again found his tongue to sink deeply into.

Sucking up the pain Cooper crawled onto his knees. Pushed himself up onto his feet. He didn’t turn but he could hear sirens. Cars breaking away from the motorcade. Drawn by the blast, racing towards him.

Instinct had him running but he was aware there was nowhere to run on the grass covered plain. They were closing in. Herding him up like the buffalo.

He could almost feel the heat from their engines as the Tannoyed words crashed across the quiet of the Colorado land.

‘STOP! THIS IS THE FBI… GET ON THE GROUND… DO IT NOW…! I REPEAT, THIS IS THE FBI… GET ON THE GROUND OR WE WILL SHOOT!’

Then, like someone had reached into his body to tear out his muscles, a raw torture of fifty thousand volts surged through him, dropping Cooper hard onto his knee caps.

Neck snapping back.

Eyes rolling up to sockets…

… teeth through tongue.