W ith a yellow Lamborghini in the rearview mirror, Tyler knew his escape wasn’t over. It had to be the one he’d seen as he exited the garage, which meant that Cavano wasn’t giving up on her Ferrari that easily.
He had hoped to find a good place to ditch the car and make their escape on foot into Munich’s U-Bahn subway, but the rush-hour traffic had slowed them enough to allow their pursuers to catch up. Because he and Stacy were unarmed, a footrace would be suicidal. And going to the police wasn’t an option after trashing the garage, killing a man, and stealing a car.
“Oh, my God!” Stacy shouted above the roar of the engine. “You’re bleeding!” She took off her sweater and pressed it against his arm.
Tyler winced. In the escape he’d forgotten about the gunshot wound, but now the pain in his shoulder howled.
“I’ll be fine,” he said through gritted teeth.
“It looks like you got shot! Are you hit anywhere else?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I saw a wrecked car in the garage. What the hell happened? Why are we in Cavano’s car?”
“Had a little trouble getting into the BMW. Pietro surprised me.”
The traffic slowed ahead, so Tyler cranked the wheel to the right, turning onto a street called Steinsdorfstrasse that ran alongside the river. Stacy squealed as he weaved through the traffic, occasionally zooming into the oncoming lane when he saw an opening.
Now she’d get an idea of what it had been like for him on the horse. Using the paddle shifters, Tyler had complete control, as if he were part of the car. Stacy, on the other hand, looked distinctly unhappy as she struggled to keep from getting thrown back and forth.
“Put your seat belt on,” Tyler said. “This could get dicey.”
She snapped the belt into place. “Dicier than this?”
“Could be.”
Tyler couldn’t put any distance between them and the Lamborghini, which had now been joined by a black Pagani Zonda.
“Did you get the geolabe?” Stacy asked.
“It’s got to be in the front boot.”
“Where are we going?”
He had to get out of these narrow streets. They could corner him if he ran into a traffic jam.
A blue sign flashed by depicting a highway overpass and an arrow toward 95.
The autobahn. The sleek sports cars following them were a match for the Ferrari. Outrunning them would be next to impossible, but the open highway was better than a city traffic jam.
He gave Stacy his phone.
“Call Grant and tell him to head this way.”
“But he’ll never catch us.”
“Just tell him that we’re getting onto the 95.”
As she dialed, Tyler thought about the evidence he’d left behind in the garage. Now he was glad he’d worn the gloves. If he had been successful in keeping his face out of sight of the cameras, there would be nothing leading back to him.
Of course, none of that would matter if Cavano and her men caught up with them.
He passed through an intersection just as the light turned red, but that didn’t deter the Zonda and the Lamborghini. Horns honking, they blew through.
The Ferrari’s gas gauge read more than half full. Cavano must have filled up before she arrived in Munich, which sparked a brainstorm for how to get out of this mess.
Tyler’s plan was simple. At high speed, these cars all gulped fuel at a prodigious rate. Because the Lambo and the Zonda were being delivered to a dealer, Tyler was sure that they had only a token amount of gas in their tanks. If he could stay ahead of them long enough, they would run out before he did. Then he could leisurely plan a place to rendezvous with Grant.
On the phone, Stacy said, “No, he’s busy trying to kill us. Where are you… On the road?… Thank God.” To Tyler, she said, “He got the Audi. The police got there just after he took off. He says Cavano’s driving the Zonda, and she looked pissed.”
Tyler wasn’t surprised. He’d be pissed, too, if someone had stolen his $250,000 supercar.
Stacy told Grant they were about to get on the 95. “What then?” she said to Tyler.
“Tell him to take the autobahn south, and we’ll call him back when we can.”
While she did that, Tyler swung onto E54, the highway leading to the autobahn. He couldn’t get above eighty miles an hour as he constantly squirted through tiny spots between cars, much to the annoyance of the Germans he passed, who were used to the rigid law of cars passing only on the left.
The honking horns behind him meant that Cavano and the other car were using the same tactics, and they were gaining ground.
A minute later, a sign said one kilometer to 95.
The traffic in the left-turn lane leading onto the autobahn was backed up and at a standstill.
“Don’t stop!” Stacy yelled.
“I’m not.”
When Tyler reached the intersection, he stood on the brakes, throwing him and Stacy against their straining seat belts. With a flick of the wheel, he veered left from the middle lane and charged past a turning truck, eliciting another scream from Stacy.
They now had a clear stretch of autobahn in front of them. Tyler snapped the Ferrari through its gears. In ten seconds they were doing over 120 and still accelerating.
The Lambo made it through the intersection faster than Cavano’s Zonda. Tyler had to slow as he waited for a station wagon that was tooling along at 100 to pass a semi, giving the Lambo time to catch up. By the time the lane was free, the Lambo was right behind them.
Tyler floored it, and the Ferrari leaped forward. Stacy had forgotten about his wound and gripped the sides of her seat.
Within seconds they were skirting 200 miles per hour on the sweeping turns through the Bavarian Forest. Even in a car meant for the track, 200 was eye-watering. Tyler was now so focused on the road that he didn’t dare glance at Stacy again.
A Porsche sedan up ahead must have noticed the two supercars headed its way and decided to see if it could match their speed. The car pulled into the passing lane and sped up, but it was still slower than the Ferrari.
Tyler caught up to the Porsche and had to tap the brake to keep from rear-ending it. That was all the Lambo needed to make up the distance, and the Zonda was nearing them as well.
The Porsche pulled aside to let Tyler pass. The Ferrari rocketed forward, but the Lambo stayed with them. The Porsche fell behind, unable to keep up.
In the rearview mirror, Tyler saw the Lambo’s passenger window roll down. The man in the passenger seat stuck a gun out the window, ready to take aim at the Ferrari’s tires, but he hadn’t counted on the force of the 180-mph wind. The pistol was torn from his hand and skipped across the road into the grass.
If they had another gun, the Lambo’s passenger wouldn’t make that mistake again, and a blowout at this speed would mean the end of the Ferrari and both of the people it carried.
Tyler let up on the accelerator.
“Why are you slowing down?” Stacy said. Even she was getting used to the speed when slowing down meant going under 175.
“I want them to get closer,” Tyler said.
“Closer? Are you nuts?”
The road was curving to the left, so Tyler hugged the inside of the left lane, letting the Lambo pull along Stacy’s side. He’d have to do this just right, or they’d be eating metal.
The driver raised a pistol. He was gesturing for them to slow down or he’d shoot. Perfect. Only one hand on the wheel.
Tyler jerked the wheel to the right, bashing the Ferrari into the Lambo. The driver got off two shots, but they both went into the hood.
The Lambo was nudged over just far enough to catch the edge of the shoulder. The unevenness made the driver over-correct, and the back wheels spun out. When it reached the grass embankment, the Lambo flipped, spewing body panels and engine parts all over the side of the autobahn. Tyler saw the bodies of both occupants go flying. At that speed, they would be pulped on impact.
Now Tyler was responsible for the deaths of three men today. He had killed before in self-defense, so he understood the grim necessity of it, but Stacy was aghast at the carnage.
Tyler was so fixated on the crash that he hadn’t noticed the Zonda closing the gap. Cavano’s car had just a little more horsepower, so she was slowly creeping up on them no matter how hard he pushed the Ferrari.
The Zonda pulled up on Tyler’s side, and the man in the passenger seat had his own gun pointed at Tyler. Tyler tried the same maneuver he’d used to destroy the Lambo. He yanked the wheel over, but Cavano was too deft and avoided the impact.
When she pulled even again, she leaned over so that Tyler could see her smile and wag a finger at them.
“She’s got us,” he said.
“You’re giving up?”
“Never. I just have to think of something else.”
“Like what?”
“That’s the hard part.”
Cavano’s passenger fired two warning shots into the air. Apparently, Cavano wanted her Ferrari back in one piece. But her passenger made it clear that the next two shots were going to end Tyler’s and Stacy’s lives one way or the other if they didn’t pull over.
Tyler saw a sign that said AUSFAHRT. An exit. Two kilometers. If he could reach it, maybe he could figure out something. He slowed to give the impression that he was obeying her command.
The Zonda suddenly lurched as if the car were having a seizure. Tyler thought Cavano had hit the brake, but then it sped up before lurching again.
The passenger turned away to see what was happening, but Tyler already knew. She was out of gas. He mashed his own pedal down.
Cavano gestured wildly to the gunman, but by the time he turned back around, the Ferrari was already directly in front of the Zonda. Not learning from his dead comrade, he stuck the gun out to shoot them and had it snatched from his hand.
The Zonda continued to slow and finally pulled over to the shoulder.
Tyler cruised to the exit, satisfied that he and Stacy were in the clear. He blipped the throttle and soon the Zonda was out of sight.
Taking a back road that ran parallel to the autobahn, they met Grant at a rest-area parking lot where they’d dump the Ferrari. Cavano would get it back, though with about eighty thousand dollars’ worth of bodywork.
“You guys okay?” Grant asked as they got out.
Tyler nodded, holding his wounded arm. “Nothing that a bandage won’t take care of.”
Stacy steadied herself against the Audi. “After that ride, I feel like I’m bathing in adrenaline.”
“Let’s make a pact,” Tyler said. “I never drive you in a car at two hundred miles an hour again, and you never make me ride another horse.”
She smiled. “You’ve got a deal. Next time we’ll compromise and make it a horse and buggy.”
Tyler groaned playfully, opened the front boot, and saw a case inside. He lifted its lid to make sure the whole car chase hadn’t been for nothing.
There was the geolabe shining brightly at him. He breathed a sigh of relief and was about to close the case when he heard it rattle, as if a piece of metal was loose inside. Then he noticed a protrusion on the side. He turned it over, and his heart sank when he saw what it was.
“Uh, guys,” he said. “We’ve got a new problem.”
“It’s not there?” Stacy said.
“No, it’s here all right. At least, most of it is.”
Tyler held it up to his eye and could see Stacy straight through the bullet hole.