Nemesis Chapter 37

Nemesis Chapter 37

"Look out!"  Nicholas yelled.

Instinctively, Max gunned the engine and stomped the gas, and the sedan took off with a jerk.  Nicholas gripped the passenger door so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

As Max spun the car around and aimed it back in the direction they had come, both men heard what sounded like firecrackers behind them, then startled as the rear windshield glass shattered.

"Get down!"  Max ordered.  "They're shooting at us!"

Nicholas did as he was told without hesitation, ducking down in the passenger seat as Max raced onward, whipping the steering wheel from side to side and guiding the vehicle around several sharp turns in an effort to avoid the gunshots.

After what seemed like forever, the popping sounds stopped.  Their pursuers had finally run out of bullets.  Now all that was left to do was to stop the chase.

Max would have a much easier time of this; just a few more twists and turns and they would be in the clear.  He glanced at his rear-view mirror repeatedly, until he was certain they were no longer being pursued. Only then did he slow the car down and allow himself to relax slightly.

"We lost them," Max sighed heavily, as Nicholas raised back up in his seat.  "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Nicholas replied, as he eyed his friend carefully.  Max was breathing harder than usual from the rush of adrenaline, a clear sheen of perspiration glistening on his forehead.  His face was drawn, particularly around the eyes, and Nicholas knew that wrestling with the steering wheel had taken a toll on Max's good arm and still-healing ribs.

"Are you all right?"  he countered.

"Yeah," Max answered, though he was hurting and he knew that his friend didn't really believe him.

"I'm glad you were driving," Nicholas smiled in admiration.  "I couldn't have done that."

Max shrugged, but grinned back at his friend.  "All in a day's work, pal," he quipped.  "Let's just get back to the others."

"I can take it from here, Max," Nicholas said gently, a hint of concern still in his voice, hoping Max would agree to rest and let him drive but not really expecting that to happen.

"Thanks, buddy, but I'll be okay," his friend responded gratefully, as he pointed the car back towards the hospital.

*******

"What do you mean, you lost them?"  Garcia demanded furiously.

He listened with trepidation as the driver of the Jeep described what had happened moments before.  He knew that he would have to report this to Christie - and that Christie would not be pleased.

Once the driver was finished, Garcia cut him off curtly and then reached for his car phone.

"John," he greeted, "we've got trouble."

"What do you mean, 'trouble', Kyle?" Christie asked.

"A dark blue sedan was just here, watching our operation.  The men went after them but they got away."

"Phelps," Christie muttered.  "It has to be Phelps."

Christie rose from his seat and began to pace the floor.  "He's still right under our noses, Kyle, taunting us," he muttered.

"Smith said there were two men in the car.  Do you think he's had time to bring in a new team?" Garcia asked timidly.

"Perhaps," Christie responded.  "But, new team or not, Phelps is plenty dangerous."

He paused briefly, his mind racing. "Beef up surveillance at the warehouse, and put your best men back out watching his headquarters.  Sooner or later, he'll show up again.  And when he does, I want him dead.  You understand me?  Dead!"