She looked in the mirror and her hopes fell. “Our friend is behind us again and he’s coming up fast. Closing the distance.”

Then he knows we’re on to him.”

Christ! He’s got a gun, Red! He’s stuck his arm out the window.”

Don’t worry,” Red told her. “Shooting a pistol left-handed from a moving car at another moving car at sixty miles an hour at this distance? Hell, he’d be lucky to hit that mountain.”

There was a sharp crack and the rear window disintegrated into flashing shards. Something buzzed in the air between them and smashed into the tapedeck. Fee howled and ducked into his console.

Unless,” Red continued thoughtfully, “that’s Orvid Crayle behind us. He’s very good.

Author: Michael Flynn