Pirate - Duncan Falconer [14]
‘Trouble,’ Hopper mumbled.
‘I think so,’ Stratton said.
‘Tenacious buggers, the Chinese,’ Hopper said.
‘Clearly not easily discouraged,’ said Stratton.
The two vehicles, smaller, faster 4×4s, had been moving at their top speed and once they closed the gap they slowed to match Ramlal’s. It pretty much confirmed the suspicion that they were aggressors. Ramlal pushed on the accelerator but the Cruiser didn’t have the power to do much more. He couldn’t pull away from them.
The lead pursuer then accelerated and looked like it was going to ram them.
‘Gun!’ shouted Stratton, Hopper and Prahbu at the same time as a man leaned out of the passenger window with a pistol in his hand.
Ramlal swerved the vehicle, reducing the gunman’s arc of fire. But another gunman leaned out of the other side.
Ramlal swerved again but he had been bracketed. The first guy fired, the round punching into the back of the Cruiser, erasing any possibility of them being overzealous highway or army patrol.
Now both shooters fired. No windows had been hit. They were trying for the tyres. Ramlal forced the Cruiser left and right, its tyres screeching.
Another stretch of long wall on the coastal side of the highway came to an end, revealing a broad stretch of ground that shelved gently down to the ocean five hundred metres beyond. Lights flickered a couple of kilometres in front near the beach. A village.
‘Get off the road!’ Stratton shouted.
Gripping the wheel like a vice, Ramlal swerved the vehicle to the edge of the tarmac and dropped it down on to the dirt shoulder. The lead pursuing vehicle followed like it was being towed behind them. But the dust kicked up by the Cruiser was vast and immediate, acting like a smoke screen between them.
As the Cruiser sloughed along the rutted shoulder, the second 4×4, still on the road, drew up alongside. Another man leaned out of the rear window and took aim with a handgun.
‘Ramlal!’ Stratton urged, as he aimed his gun past his driver’s head.
Ramlal cringed and braced himself for the shot. But he didn’t wait for it because he had to swerve to avoid a massive boulder right in front of them on the shoulder. The gunman fired at the Cruiser, hitting the door and doorframe. Stratton fired back turning the car’s rear passenger window white.
Up ahead the shoulder was becoming rocky. Ramlal steered hard left, up the shoulder, back on to the highway. All inside hung on, except the Saudi. Sabarak was bouncing up and down like a rag doll. His head struck the roof as the Cruiser flew up on to the road and he opened his eyes with a gasp.
Ramlal aimed the front corner of the Cruiser at the rear quarter of the other 4×4, just behind the tyre. As the two vehicles brutally connected the Cruiser sent the 4×4 into a violent swerve as its back wheels tried to overtake the front wheels. On the second fishtail, they succeeded and the vehicle spun a full hundred and eighty degrees, its wheels smoking, coming to a stop facing backwards.
By now Sabarak, who had almost regained full consciousness, looked every bit like he was living a nightmare.
Ramlal had the old Cruiser up to its limit but the other 4×4 was more powerful and moved alongside. Stratton recognised the front passenger immediately through its open windows. It was the Chinese Secret Service officer. He had a semi-automatic in his hand and aimed it past Ramlal at Stratton. Another Chinese agent in the back held a sub-machine gun out the window.
The officer indicated with the pistol for Ramlal to pull over.
Ramlal glanced at his boss. He would do nothing without the OK from Stratton.
Stratton scanned the road ahead, searching for options. He had to assume the Chinese agent would rather not risk harming the Saudi or he would have done so by now. Like Stratton, no doubt the man’s orders were to bring Sabarak in alive.
The other 4×4 had recovered and was closing on them. Stratton had limited options. He could try and pick them off while driving. Or he could have Ramlal stop and they could shoot it out. But the odds weren