The Curse of Medusa

The engine over-revved wildly as the Jeep bounced over the rough-ground at highway speed and plowed through the long, dry grass like a combine harvester. Clouds of dried wheat heads and stems burst into the air and left a corn-yellow trail of dust in their wake stretching all the way back to the road.

Hawke winced. “This is definitely not how I was planning on spending today…”

* * *

From his base in New Orleans, Alan Pauling tapped the keyboard of his laptop and increased the power on the Northrop Grumman MQ-8 Fire Scout. He watched through the camera as the unmanned autonomous helicopter drone lifted away from the back of the flatbed truck and into the air. The Rolls-Royce M250 turboshaft engine roared to life as Pauling directed the Fire Scout higher and turned it one-eight degrees to face its target.

Driving the Presidential limo by remote control had been enough of a challenge, especially when being chased by the Secret Service Escalades, but flying an armed, stolen, military drone into the heart of the American capital was in another league completely.

Through the camera he saw the familiar skyline of Washington DC appear on the horizon and smiled as he accelerated the chopper toward downtown. The drone was loaded with a startling variety of weapons, including Viper Strike GPS-assisted laser-guided glide bombs and Hellfire missiles.

That should just about do it, Pauling thought as the capital got larger on his monitor.

And then some.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Brooke pointed his shotgun through the window and got a shot off at the Corvette but it missed. The sports car was too far away now, up on the highway to their left, and accelerating out of sight.

“You think they gave up?” Alex asked.

“Maybe,” Hawke said.

Brooke sighed and shook his head as he reloaded the shotgun. “I doubt it.”

Hawke decelerated the Jeep as a line of Washington hawthorns rapidly approached them. The automatic box changed down to second and then first as he applied the brakes and drove down into a thicket where a narrow stream was running from west to east.

“Take her right through it, Joe,” Brooke said. “It’s not deep — I come through here with the horses all the time.”

Hawke crossed the stream and pulled the Jeep up the opposite bank. He took an appreciative look around the shady glen.

“Nice place for a picnic.”

“Damn it all,” Alex said and looked at him sarcastically. “I packed the psychotic gunmen but forgot the salad dressing…”

Hawke glanced at her and smirked. “You know what I mean.”

“I hate to break up what could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Brooke said. “But we have to get back on the road — look.”

They were now in an enclosed field, bordered on all sides by the edge of a larch forest. “We ain’t driving through there, believe me,” Brooke said. “It’s either back to the wheatfield or up to the highway.”

Hawke agreed. They were penned in down here. What might have been an escape route had made them fish in a barrel, so he swung the wheel to the left and plowed through what remained of the second field. Ahead of them was the highway, but the Corvette was still nowhere in sight.

They smashed the Jeep through the wooden fence and climbed up the embankment in a wild spray of gravel chips as the tires slipped to keep traction. Checking the way was clear, Hawke pulled the battered Jeep back onto ID-75 and headed south to Hailey.

Back on the highway now, they checked the GPS and saw they were only three miles from Hailey and the airport. In the first few seconds of peace since the attacks had begun, Brooke reached for his phone and cursed when he realized it wasn’t on him.

“Damn it! Must have left it back at the cabin…”

“Use mine,” Alex said, reaching for her own cellphone.

As she handed him the phone, the Corvette appeared in the mirrors once again.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Alex asked.

“They were waiting behind that billboard,” said Hawke. “How far from the airport are we now?”

“Less than two miles,” Brooke said, twisting in the rear seat to take a better look at his pursuers. “If only we knew what the hell was going on! Maybe we should stop and fight the bastards.”

“Are you crazy, Dad?”

“Alex is right, Jack. You’re too valuable.”

The Corvette accelerated and pulled up beside them on the passenger’s side.

“I need to make a call to my guys at the airport — Hawke get us away from these crazies!”

Hawke nodded. “Sorry in advance, guys.”

Alex looked at him, confused. “What for?”

Hawke spun the wheel to the right and smashed into the Corvette sending the much lighter vehicle careering off the road. It plowed into the shoulder, kicking up arcs of grit and gravel chips as the driver struggled to maintain control.

“Good work!” Brooke said, beaming as the Corvette almost lost control and spun around in a circle on the highway.