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| From Chapter One: |
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High up in the Hollywood Hills, a U-Move rental truck took another turn so fast, it was barely able to make it. Each time it swerved wildly, then righted itself, gaining speed. The truck was followed by a man on a red motorcycle. His features were hidden behind an equally red helmet and he was dressed in leather riding gear.
"He's heading for the Hollywood outlet," Jack Marshall called into his radio. "Gotcha. He won't make it," a voice replied. "We have it covered." Peter Langley, one of Jack's team, was standing a few miles further down the hill, binoculars glued to his eyes, and watching his boss. "Just be careful. You have traffic coming your way." "Acknowledged," Jack replied. He came around another bend a minute later, meeting two cars that were slowly crawling up the hills. Having a truck going 100 miles per hour shoot around a turn wasn't exactly good for the nerves. Jack avoided them both, accelerated, and caught sight of his target again. "Pete, get ready. They are coming your way." "We already rolled out the welcome signs.". Jack caught glimpses of the driver of the truck as he glanced into his side mirrors, checking on where Marshall was. He knew the guy would try and swing over to crush him if he attempted to pass. The roadblock would stop him and there was no need for heroics. This was a simple mission and the objective was to stop the truck and arrest the driver, as well as the passengers in the back of it. They would probably bruised and battered, judging by the way the driver was handling the truck. It had started out like any normal mission, but Marshall had quickly found out that what should have been a simple observation and stake-out, was much more. Their suspects, three Shyr'Pays Pawns, had had something planned and it had surprised all of them when they had suddenly left their hide-out in a rental truck. Jack and his team had given chase and though all had taken care not to be discovered, their cover had finally been blown. Now it all came down to simply stopping the Pawns and getting them back to a base for interrogation. Something was happening in LA and Intelligence would want to know what it was. "Whoa!" Jack suddenly exclaimed as something suddenly flew his way, whistling past his ear. "Damnit!" The back of the truck had been thrown open, the large loading doors swinging dangerously in their hinges, and two men stood at the opening, staring angrily at Jack. One of them kicked hard at something large and square, and a computer monitor bounced onto the road. Jack swallowed a curse and barely avoided running the dead piece of machinery over. "Jack, what the heck is going on?" Peter demanded. "They are getting rid of their equipment," Jack hissed, swerving again. Whatever was in that truck beside the Pawns, he was quickly getting a good idea that the Nesh'Muutu operatives weren't interested in keeping it. The stuff was hitting the road and rolling in all directions. He realized that if he hit something with his front wheel, he would go head first over the handlebars. His peripheral vision caught a gap in the metal safety rail over the canyon, and, on a split-second reflex, he sliced through the gap. Jack kicked down a gear and struggled to control the bike on the uneven dirt shoulder above the steep slope into the canyon. Behind him, one of the cars also using this street tried to steer clear of the electronic debris, but it didn't have a chance. A computer monitor collided with the radiator, smashed in the headlights and cracked the windshield as it bounced over the hood. The second car behind it hit the breaks and slid sideways, but it came away with just a few dents. Still, the accident effectively blocked the road. "Jack? What's your position?" Pete called. On the wrong side of the safety rail and about to plunge into the canyon, Jack thought sourly as he struggled with his machine. They might have been built to be more enduring than a regular motorcycle, but there was a limit. He tore through the weeds and dirt, skimming the edge of the rim of the incline. His position was easily described: desperate! |
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© 2000 (Birgit Stäbler, Birgit Kohls, Eva "Magic" Gillmann,Francis Durbas)
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