The Crowns Vengeance

by Andrew Clawson

  He swerved, and unbelievably, the exotic race car hugged the curve like a mini dress on Hugh Hefner’s girlfriend. He didn’t even have to tap the breaks. Erika’s mouth formed a perfect circle.

  “Oh my.”

  “You still have that gun?” Parker asked.

  It took her a moment to speak. “Yes.”

  “I hope it’s loaded, because we have company.”

  Her head whipped around just in time to see three other pairs of bluish headlights whip around the bend. Orange flashes appeared from two cars, and the rear window on his new racing machine shattered.

  “Damn them. You shouldn’t shoot at a car this nice.”

  All thoughts stopped when Erika began to fire. Inside the ridiculously small interior of the vehicle, each gunshot was like a bomb, smashing his brain against the inside of his skull.

  “Hold on,” Parker shouted, or at least he tried to, but he couldn’t hear his own voice with the ringing in each ear. Ahead of them, the road bent sharply to the left, trees whizzing by at a blinding pace on either side.

  He accelerated through the curve, half expecting to slide off the paved roadway and smash into a tree. Of course, he was wrong, and the unparalleled manufacturing that went into every one of Enzo Ferrari’s beauties kept him on course.

  “I’m running out of bullets.” She had to shout in his ear to be heard over the roar of wind whipping through the vehicle.

  “If we can get on the highway, we’ll be fine. There’s no way they could catch us in this.” As he spoke, the road dipped, and a turn appeared. They had to be getting close.

  Parker barely slowed for the curve, the streamlined car firing through the turn like a bullet.

  Directly at a closed gate.

  “Shit. Hold on.”

  Traveling at nearly one hundred miles per hour, he mashed the brake and the clutch, one hand twisting the wheel hard left, the other pulling the emergency brake. With all four tires smoking, the carbon fiber vehicle slid across the pavement like it was sheer ice, hurtling toward the massive double gates blocking their exit.

  As they careened to a deadly impact with the unforgiving steel gates, the car skidded around so Parker’s headlights were facing the oncoming vehicles that were now rounding the corner.

  Amazingly, the high performance anti-lock brakes came through, bringing the Italian powerhouse to a tooth-rattling stop inches from the gate. Erika grabbed the gun from his lap and lowered her window, already taking aim.

  Tires in danger of melting smoked on the asphalt, the car bolting ahead, hugging the left side of the road. All three cars had slowed for the turn, expecting to see a heap of crushed carbon fiber at the gates.

  Instead, Erika unloaded her gun, spraying bullets through the interior of one car.

  “I think I got one.”

  Sure enough, as he whipped around the hard right turn, only two pairs of headlights followed.

  “But I’m out of bullets.”

  They were headed back to Drake’s stronghold, unarmed and outnumbered.

  “Parker, we’re going to run right into them. Whoever’s still at Drake’s place will mow us down.” She was right. They were trapped.

  As trees flashed by on either side, perilously close, an idea popped into his head. Born of desperation, it was ludicrous, would never work. He should wait, try to outrun these guys and find a phone to call Nick. But trusting in Nick was what had put them here in the first place. Look how that turned out.

  “Put on your seatbelt.” They didn’t have any more bullets, but he and Erika were far from defenseless.

  “What are you going to do?”

  In response, he hit the brakes and pulled the emergency lever, executed the same one-eighty he’d perfected moments ago. When they ended up facing the opposite direction without hitting any trees, Parker thought that he may have missed his true calling in life.

  “Parker, don’t do it. We’ll never survive in this little car.” She could read him like a book, his stony countenance all the confirmation Erika needed.

  “This car is worth a quarter million dollars. I’m sure it has good air bags.”

  Without waiting for permission, he popped the clutch and hammered the gas, flooding the screaming engine with fuel. Like a missile, they shot toward two pairs of oncoming headlights that had just come into view.

  He drove directly down the middle of the paved roadway, aiming to bisect the pair of onrushing vehicles. Mere feet from the road’s edge, thick rows of unforgiving lumber flashed past on both sides.

  There was no place to go. Erika screamed, terror joining the roar of air whipping through their windowless car, an ideal soundtrack for the evening. Parker’s eyes were open for the end.

  Except it didn’t happen. Right before the three cars would have met in a twisted, shattered mess of broken bones and crushed metal frames, the two oncoming cars veered off to either side, last second losers in this game of chicken.

  They should have stayed straight. Their exotic vehicles, designed for maximum speed and luxury, were no match for the solid, unforgiving tree trunks that lined the roadway. Each car’s front tire rode up Parker’s hood, lifting the cars until they were perpendicular to the ground. Each vehicle sliced through the air like a knife until they slammed into the thick cords of living oak. Ten feet in diameter, the trees barely flinched on impact.

  To his right, one vehicle crumpled like a tin can when it hit, the rear bumper joining the doorframe in a race to meet the front tires. Anyone inside was instantly crushed, and for good measure, their corpses roasted to a crisp when the racing fuel inside the car’s gas tank ignited.

  A tremendous fireball turned night into day.

  To his left, the other driver fared slightly better. His car, flipped nearly on the passenger side, slid through the first row of trees, sparks flying as the roof was torn off. It was when he reached the next layer of rock-hard sycamores that things went south.

  A nearly identical fireball filled the air, scorched metal jammed against the thick trunk.

  “If we live through tonight, I’m going to kill you.” All of this, and of course she still had something to say.

  Parker’s heart hammered wildly against his chest. His skin tingled, a euphoric sensation overtaking his body. He was weightless and rocket-fueled at the same time, a feeling unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

  They were alive.

  Only after a few moments of heavy breathing did he notice the light. Outside, above the roof of their car, which now had two dark tire treads on the hood, an orange glow pervaded the darkness.

  “Parker. You set the forest on fire.”

  Apparently high octane racing fuel burned quickly. What moments earlier had been an inky black sea of leaves was now a raging inferno.

  “Can you climb?” Parker asked.

  Calm as could be, she turned to face him, the roaring fire sparkling in her eyes.

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “The gate. If we can’t find a doorway, can you climb over? I’m not going back to Drake’s house, and if we move now, I bet that blaze will distract him long enough for us to get out of here.”

  “If it means we escape, then yes, I can climb.”

  Beleaguered tires left just a little more rubber on the road as he bolted away from the growing fire.

  “The whole Boston fire department’s going to be here soon. There have to be a hundred acres of woodlands in this place.”

  “I hope Drake burns with it.”

  Now that the fire was behind them, the star-studded sky overhead was visible through the windshield, spider web cracks radiating from where the tires had crushed it.

  The gate looked taller then he remembered.

  “There should be a door around here somewhere.” He spotted one ahead, and Parker jumped from the ruined Ferrari, a tinge of guilt in his heart. Drake was an asshole, but his car didn’t deserve this.

  “It’s locked.” Erika tugged on a doorknob, but it would
n’t budge. “It’s made of steel. We’re not getting through it.”

  Peering upward, he guessed the gate was ten feet high. Tall, but he could jump and grab the top.

  “Here, climb on.” Parker laced his fingers together to form a step for Erika’s foot. “I’ll boost you up. Once you’re over, I can jump up and haul myself across.”

  To her credit, Erika didn’t complain. She planted her foot in his hands and stretched, Parker pushing her toward the sky.

  “I got it.” Her weight lifted, and one arm hooked the fence, her body flush against the wall. As she grasped for a hold with her other arm, a strange thing happened.

  The wall exploded.

  Razor-edged shards of broken concrete stabbed them both. A deep thumping reverberated in Parker’s chest, his lungs suddenly unable to draw breath. Erika lost her grip and tumbled into his arms, her body lit like an angel falling from the heavens when he caught her.

  Except it wasn’t heavenly light shining down. She was in the center of the brightest searchlight beam he’d ever seen. It was painful, so intense that his eyes forced shut without instructions from his brain.

  Only when a familiar voice came down from the sky did he realize the searchlight was mounted on a helicopter that churned overhead. “Stay where you are. If you move, the next shot is at your head.”

  Spencer Drake’s magnified voice came through a bullhorn. Parker turned his back to the beam, still unable to see anything. Chilled night air blasted them both, Erika’s hair flying like Medusa’s snakes as the helicopter hovered overhead.

  “Turn around, and keep your hands in the air.” Drake was on the ground, shouting at them. Shielding his eyes, Parker could see a ladder dangling from the bird, the rope contraption swaying wildly in the swirling winds. The rotor wash was intense, so loud that he could barely hear Drake from thirty feet away.

  “Mr. Chase, you’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble tonight. Still, I must thank you for bringing the items I requested to my house. I appreciate your cooperation.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Parker shouted, hands in the air. “We didn’t want to get involved with any of this.”

  Now on the ground, Drake held the same silver handgun he’d carried earlier, and it was leveled at Parker’s chest.

  “Unfortunately we cannot always choose the path we take. You two have proven to be quite the resourceful pair. I’ve actually enjoyed this little game of ours, but sadly, it must end.”

  “You think this is a game?” Erika was incensed, moving toward Drake as she screamed. “You’re going to destroy hundreds of millions of lives. People who’ve never done anything to you, people who trusted greedy scumbags like you with their money. You have no right to do this.”

  “I have no right?” Drake was ten feet away, his gun waving in the air. “Don’t dare talk to me while you stand here on land that was stolen from England, ripped from the rightful owners after all we had done for you. You peasants need to be put in your place, reminded that if it weren’t for the British Empire you would all be wearing loincloths and riding horses. Britain made this country, and your colonist ancestors stole it. You and every one of your pathetic countrymen will be reminded who is the true superpower.”

  Parker could see Drake was losing it. He was close enough now that the roaring winds wouldn’t be enough to send his bullets astray.

  “America is a cesspool of greed and entitlement,” Drake continued. “Money is king in this country, glorified above all else. I’ve seen what wealth can do to a man, have spent enough time amongst the so-called elite of your nation to realize that this country is rotting from within, corruption and entitlement eating away at the heart of your republic.” Drake leveled the gun at Erika, an evil grin on his face. “America will soon feel the very shame that Britain experienced, know what it is like to fall from the top. Vengeance is now ours, and you will be in your rightful place, under the heel of the greatest nation on earth.” His finger tightened on the trigger. “Good-bye, Dr. Carr.”

  Parker dove into Erika, tackling her to the ground as Drake’s pistol spit fire. The bullet ripped into his right shoulder with the force of a cannonball, throwing him against the wall. It was oddly warm, as though hot water had spilled on his shoulder.

  When he hit the ground, pain burst through his body like fireworks. Teeth clenched, his breath coming in quick gasps, Parker grabbed the wounded shoulder. His hand came away soaked in warm blood.

  “How pathetically valiant of you, Mr. Chase.”

  Erika’s scream filled the air as Drake leveled his gun at Parker’s chest. Outlined by the powerful spotlight, the maniac appeared to be a specter, black as night, a demonic outline in human form.

  Parker could see Drake’s finger curl around the trigger. An inch more that would end his life. With his good arm, Parker pushed Erika, away from the madman with the gun, away from danger.

  He heard a soft whistle, a bullet coming to kill him.

  The helicopter exploded.

  In a fiery ball, larger and louder than any explosion he’d ever seen, the helicopter directly behind Drake’s head erupted into a ball of white-hot flame. Twisted metal hung in the air, suspended by the burning rotors.

  A moment later, gravity asserted itself, and the flaming inferno fell to the ground, slamming down not twenty feet from them. No one moved, their eyes transfixed on the destruction.

  “Put the gun down. I repeat, put the gun down, or we will open fire.” Parker realized the deep thumping in his chest hadn’t stopped. Lying at the base of the perimeter wall, they looked up into the dark underbelly of a second helicopter, which blasted Spencer Drake with a blinding light of its own.

  One hand shielding his eyes, Spencer Drake didn’t drop the gun. His mouth moved, but Parker could tell no sound came out. The man was in shock, completely caught off guard.

  “This is your last warning. Drop the weapon or we will open fire.” Parker didn’t need that warning. While Drake was still mesmerized by the thundering helicopter, he bolted from his spot at the base of the wall and flew toward the armed man.

  Injured shoulder planted into Drake’s chest, Parker laid him out, as hard a hit as he’d ever made, on or off the football field. He felt the ribs break, sensed Drake’s sternum crack in half as he landed on him, bringing the full weight of his body to bear. The silver gun went flying out of reach. Drake was out cold. Breathing, but not going anywhere.

  “Nice hit.” Nick Dean’s amplified voice came down from the open helicopter door. As the chopper drifted downward, Erika was suddenly in his arms, her face buried in his chest.

  “It’s over,” he said, holding her tightly. “You’re safe now.”

  Epilogue:

  Two weeks later

  Key West, FL

  A warm breeze blew through his hair, the salty air filling Parker’s lungs as he looked out over the sparkling blue waters. All around him, people sat in bamboo chairs with their bare feet in the sand. Waiters flitted about in tropical shirts holding trays of seafood fresh from the open-air kitchen.

  It was without a doubt one of the most unique establishments he’d ever visited. Situated on a stretch of sparkling white sand that lined the Gulf of Mexico, cloudless blood-red skies overhead, the dining room was unlike any other on earth.

  Parker sipped a cold bottle of beer, beads of condensation running down the brown glass. His white linen shirt was partially unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to the elbows. His shoulder still ached, a white bandage where the bullet had gone through. Fortunately it didn’t hit anything major, and he was expected to make a full recovery. Erika sat across from him, stunning as always in an aqua blue summer dress that matched her piercing eyes.

  “Key West isn’t so bad, don’t you think?”

  She drained the last of her beer before answering. “It’s amazing. I can’t believe we’re still in America. The beaches are so white.” She kicked some sand his way, the white grains splashing against his tanned leg. He hadn’t worn long pants all week, and l
oved every minute of it. Eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses, Parker took in the scene, a sense of utter calm descending over his body. Soft chatter floated past on salt-soaked air, the beach a picture of serenity.

  Of course, it didn’t last, and the cell phone on their table began to vibrate fiercely.

  “Must you answer that infernal thing? We’re on vacation.” She peered over the top of her oversized sunglasses in mock anger. He thought they made her look like a bug.

  “It’s Nick.” He’d been expecting this call all day.

  “Hey there, old man. What’s up?”

  “What’s up is I’m wasting my time dealing with your ridiculous requests instead of doing my job.” Nick may have sounded angry, but Parker knew it was just an act. After all, the man had just been promoted to Special Agent in Charge of the CIA’s Philadelphia office, largely based on his role in uncovering the plot to destroy the US economy. Considering that Parker had handed him the man responsible for the attacks, Nick couldn’t be mad at him.

  “How did it go?”

  “The transaction has been authorized. I can officially inform you that the Internal Revenue Service has no interest in any financial transactions you make in the next ten days. This would include any wire transfers made to or from any German banks. Any money you acquire in this time frame will also be exempt from taxation.”

  Parker’s cheeks threatened to displace his ears. As soon as she saw him grinning like an idiot, Erika knew it had gone through and raised her glass in a salute.

  “Consider it a token of appreciation from the federal government. It was signed off on by none other than the new Treasury secretary.”

  “Thanks, Nick. I owe you one.”

  “We’ll call it even. Are you ever going to tell me where that money came from?”

  A sly grin spread across Parker’s lips.

  “Let’s just say you don’t want to know.”

  “Fair enough. While I have you on the line, there’s someone who wants to speak with you. Hold on a second.”