The Messiah Secret - James Becker [82]
Then, as he straightened up, he saw the Renault drive around the outside of the grey van behind them – the priest had found a way through the opposite-direction traffic.
Angela saw the vehicle at the same moment and shouted a warning.
‘I know,’ Bronson said, desperately looking for a way out.
He slammed on the brakes and slewed his car over to the right-hand side of the road, on to a small open area. Behind him, the driver of the grey van also braked, but Bronson was gambling that he’d take longer to stop.
He swung the wheel hard round, spinning the car until it faced back the way it had come, then accelerated across to the other side of the road behind the grey van. The priest’s car was now the wrong side of the van, and Bronson hoped it would take him at least a minute or two to get back in pursuit.
The traffic was still heavy, but he forced his way into the line of vehicles, keeping on the outside and overtaking every time a gap appeared.
‘Where is he?’ Angela demanded, turning in her seat to stare back down the road. Her face was white, her eyes panicked.
‘Hopefully he’s still trying to turn round,’ Bronson said.
He checked his mirrors again, but there was still no sign of the other car. The traffic started slowing for some unseen obstacle ahead, and Bronson began to relax. Now his car was just another in a line of white cars, effectively invisible.
And then, just seconds later, the priest reappeared from a side street over to their right, and forced his way back into the traffic stream perhaps half a dozen vehicles behind them.
‘Shit,’ Bronson said. He dropped down a gear and accelerated past a couple of cars.
‘How on earth—’
‘He must have used a parallel street,’ Bronson snapped. ‘Either he knows the area well or he just got lucky. We’ve got to lose him.’
He pulled out, tyres screaming, and dived in front of a Mercedes saloon and down a street to the right, praying that it wasn’t a dead end.
It wasn’t, and it took several seconds before the other car appeared behind them. But Bronson knew he couldn’t keep running. Somehow he had to finish the chase and stop the priest. And he had the glimmerings of an idea.
Ninety yards back, Killian smiled grimly. Bronson’s car was in front of him, and despite the earlier impact, his own was apparently undamaged. And on these quieter streets, he should easily be able to finish the job.
He accelerated, starting to close the gap, and looked well ahead, searching for a spot where he could drive Bronson off the road. Once he’d forced his car to stop, he could kill Bronson – the switchblade was still in his pocket – and then Angela would be easy meat. It was just a shame he wouldn’t be able to take his time over the killings, and make them truly appreciate the exquisite beauty of the divine agony he could offer them before death ended their rapture.
Bronson saw the priest getting closer and accelerated to maintain the distance between them. He needed to make a couple of rapid turns, but not so quickly that the priest would lose sight of him.
He picked a wide street on the left and turned down it, his car’s tyres howling in protest. Fifty yards further on, he swung right, just as the other car appeared around the previous corner. There were narrow streets on both sides of them. It would have to do.
Bronson slammed on the brakes, pulled the gear lever into reverse and backed his car down one of the streets on the right, stopping just a few yards from the junction.
‘Get down,’ he snapped, grabbing Angela by the shoulder. They ducked down below the level of the windscreen and just waited, listening for the sound of the engine of the pursuing car.
The priest raced past. Bronson immediately slipped the gear lever into first and drove out of the side street.
‘Thank God. Let’s get out of here,’ Angela breathed, then stared at Bronson as he turned