Whiteout - Ken Follett [138]
On the periphery of his vision, he saw Daisy running after the car. Another shot banged. The car phone said: “Stanley, this is Toni. Bad news—a break-in at the lab. Please call my mobile as soon as you can.”
Craig guessed that the people with guns must be connected to the break-in, but he could not think about that now. He tried to steer by what he could see out of the smashed side window, but it was no good. After a few seconds, the car went off the cleared path, and he felt the sudden drag as it slowed. The shape of a tree appeared in the crazed glass of the windshield, and Craig slammed on the brakes, but he was too late, and the car hit the tree with a terrific crash.
Craig was thrown forward. His head hit the broken windshield, knocking out shards of glass, cutting the skin of his forehead. The steering wheel bruised his chest. Sophie was flung against the dashboard and fell with her bottom on the floor and her feet up on the seat, but she swore and tried to right herself, so he knew she was all right.
The engine had stalled again.
Craig looked in the rearview mirror. Daisy was ten yards behind him, walking steadily across the snow toward the car, holding the gun in her suede-gloved hand. He knew instinctively that she was coming closer just to get a clear shot. She was going to kill him and Sophie.
He had only one chance left. He had to kill her.
He started the engine again. Daisy, five yards away now and directly behind the car, raised her gun arm. Craig put the gearshift into reverse and closed his eyes.
He heard a bang just as he stamped on the throttle. The rear window shattered. The car leaped backwards, straight at Daisy. There was a heavy thump, as though someone had dropped a sack of potatoes on the boot.
Craig took his foot off the throttle, and the car rolled to a stop. Where was Daisy? He pushed broken glass out of the windshield and saw her. She had been thrown sideways by the impact and was lying on the ground with one leg at an odd angle. He stared, horrified at what he had done.
Then she moved.
“Oh, no!” he cried. “Why won’t you die?”
She reached out with one arm and picked up her gun, lying on the snow nearby.
Craig put the car into first gear.
The car phone said: “To erase this message, press three.”
Daisy looked into his eyes and pointed the gun at him.
He let out the clutch and stamped on the throttle.
He heard the bang of the gun over the bellow of the Ferrari engine, but the shot went wild. He kept his foot down. Daisy tried to drag herself out of the way, and Craig deliberately turned the wheel in her direction. An instant before the impact he saw her face, staring in terror, her mouth open in an inaudible scream. Then the car hit her with a thud. She disappeared beneath its curved front. The low-slung chassis scraped over something lumpy. Craig saw that he was headed straight for the tree he had hit before. He braked, but too late. Once again, the car crashed into the tree.
The car phone, which had been telling him how to save messages, stopped in mid-sentence. He tried to start the engine, but nothing happened. There was not even the click of a broken starter motor. He saw that none of the dials was working, and there were no lights on the dashboard. The electrical system had failed. It was hardly surprising, after the number of times he had crashed the car.
But that meant he could not use the phone.
And where was Daisy?
He got out of the car.
In the driveway behind him was a pile of ripped black leather, white flesh, and gleaming red blood.
She was not moving.
Sophie got out and stood beside him. “Oh, God, is that her?”
Craig felt sick. He could not speak, so he nodded.
Sophie whispered, “Do you think she’s dead?”
Craig nodded again, then nausea overwhelmed him. He turned aside and vomited into the snow.
8:15 A.M.
KIT had a terrifying feeling that everything was coming unglued.
It should have been a simple thing for three tough crims such as Nigel, Elton, and Daisy to round up stray members of a law-abiding family. Yet things kept going wrong. Little Tom had