For the Love of God and the Arab Rising

  Chapter fourteen: The Chase. ‘They have finished. Let’s get out of here!’ Performing a crouching shuffle down the side alley; we then run across the car park and head for the car, slipping on the ice and snow. Its over 150 metres to the car, Cat is as quick as me, fit and strong; our doors slam in unison. McGovan rounds the corner just as I start the car, which makes him look up, and directly at us too. Cat panics and shouts at me to get a move on; this triggers an instant reaction from McGovan who starts to walk towards us and then breaks into a run. This is not good. I engage the clutch, ram it into gear, and gun the engine; but the car just twists and jerks in the slush and snow. Cat screams at me to take it easy on the throttle, even a 4x4 will struggle in these conditions. She opens the window, pulls out the LCP and lets off two rounds. McGovan falls heavily as he attempts to dodge the shots; a car window explodes just behind him. I whip the wheel to the left and push the throttle as hard as I dare, resisting the urge to floor it. The car jerks forwards as it finds grip and smashes into the rear light cluster of the vehicle in front, glass bounces across the bonnet of the Honda. I jab the throttle again and the car breaks free, heading directly for McGovan who has regained his balance; his hand dives into the left side of his jacket, he unholsters his hand gun, aims, and fires two, no, three quick, successive shots. ‘Down, get down!’ The Honda snakes and jerks. Two shots smash into the wind shield and exit the car via the rear window. Cat screams; glass splinters and cracks. Ducking below the dash and steering the Honda is not easy in any ones book and the car smashes into yet another car. The scrambling tyres find what grip is available, which is eventually communicated through the tyres, the 4x4 transmission, and the mechanics finally hurtle the car towards McGovan. He turns on his heels and heads for his car; he reversing wildly out of the lodge car park, the vehicle bouncing wildly upon the extent of its suspension and crashes into the car parked opposite, stopping him mounting the kerb. The two wheel drive Chevy struggles for grip and refuses to move forward whilst taking so much abuse, tyres spinning uselessly. Nosa’s two goons run out to see what all the commotion is about, hand guns at the ready, expensive suit tails flying in the wind. Looking in the mirror, and just as we pull out of the street; I can see McGovan abandon the Chevy and jump into the Range Rover with the two goons. It must be a good half a mile down the main drag before we see the unmistakable front end of the Orange Range Rover behind us, swerving past one car and then the next. The advantages of the 4x4 Honda lost against the Range Rover, it’s a struggle to maintain the distance between us. McGovans mobile rings and he struggles to release his phone from his trouser pocket. ‘McGovan, what’s going on?’ ‘Those bloody idiots that had Ray’s paperwork were outside the lodge; god knows what they were up to or what they know’. ‘We’re on our way’. ‘No! Its fine; I’m with your two blokes anyway. The Mitchells are nothing. I’ll calm it down, take them out and report back; leave it with me’. McGovan did not want to involve the New York boss in this; he had to show he could contain any trouble and manage any UK issues. He would sort it, his life depended on it. ‘Is he following us?’ ‘I’m not sure, there are too many lights; head for the motel’. ‘No way, I have all our money and cards in my thigh pocket, it’s all we need. I suggest we get out of here; we need a flight, and fast’. ‘Our flight isn’t until 430am in the morning, its only 1030pm now’.

  Cat kept checking the distance between us and the Range Rover, the Honda screaming for mercy as we pushed the small engine to its limits. Its suspension rolling to extreme angles, as I jerked the steering wheel left, and then right to take advantage of any small gap. The larger engine of the Range Rover was not playing to McGovans advantage in the heavy traffic. If McGovans history was anything like my researched material suggested, there was no way he would let this go and risk his operation. McGovan had us in his sights and was just tailing at a discreet distance, he could not afford further trouble in a congested area, be arrested or become injured. He must make it back to the UK, keep Nosa happy and keep the operation on track. Four tonnes of Cocaine were to be delivered by plane to the UK; McGovan would control the distribution throughout London and the South East, the most lucrative market geographically for Cocaine anywhere in Europe. ‘He’s there, about four cars back, but he’s not chasing as such, just hanging back’. ‘Maybe he’s got more brains than we give him credit for, but if he corners us and the coast is clear, you can bet your last dollar that its curtains for us’. What to do? How are we going to get away from McGovan? The hotel was all ready discounted as it was too easy to be cornered. The flight to the UK was not scheduled to leave until 430 am. ‘Turn around’. ‘What?’ ‘We are all ready on the main Interstate highway 78; do a U-turn at the next turnpike, drive for a 100 km, then head back into town. We’ve only just hired the car, we’ve a full tank of juice; let’s hope McGovan hasn’t’. The main turn pike was a couple of miles away and I could see traffic lights in the distance. ‘If they’re not green, jump the lights. If we get pulled over at least we’ll have the NYPD at our side.’ ‘Take the slip road’. We approached the lights, slowing to 45kph, making it at least feasible to negotiate the impossible. Cars were slowing down for the amber light. It was going to turn red just as we got there, we would have to dodge pedestrians as well as cars. My hands sweated on the wheel, my mind racing to predict the movement of pedestrians and vehicles alike. The shattered screen was a dire hindrance and compounded the problem of fractured light emitting from dozens of street signs and road illuminations. If it rained or snowed we wouldn’t stand a chance and would have to stop. The junction lights were at amber and there was only fifty metres to go, cars in front were all ready slowing down to a near halt, a few accelerated to beat the red. ‘Look left! Cat screamed, up the kerb’. I jerked the steering to the left, the Honda’s 4x4 system electronics leaping into life, taking power away from the left wheels and pulsing power to the right wheels 100 times a second as the traction control kicked in. The Honda hit the kerb at 60kph; a nearby pedestrian just froze with shock as the Honda firstly hit, and then bounced over the high kerb. Now steering wildly to the right and just as the Honda stopped bouncing across the pavement, the front left wheel nearly deforming under the strain, the Honda cut across the traffic just before the pedestrian lights turned green. Horns sounding as drivers reacted with shock and anger. McGovan followed, but the Range Rover was fitted with ultra low profiles only good for one thing, posing. The granite kerb knifed its way through the 35mm tyres and dug into the soft alloy rims of the chromed 20 inch wheels with such force that the front nearside burst instantly, the weight of the car forcing it to continue in the direction it was travelling when the tyre burst. The front left wheel rim digging into the pavement, sending sparks in to the air. The behemoth of a car crossed the paved corner of the street, and finally jolting to a halt in the middle of the side road; oncoming cars breaking wildly to avoid a smash, tyres screeching.

  ‘YES! He’s crashed and burned; we are home free, for now’. McGovan stepped down from the Range Rover, his face red with anger; he slammed the door, swearing profusely as he cursed his luck. The two goons from Nosa’s team released themselves from the stricken vehicle and just looked at McGovan. One pulled his mobile out and pushed a speed dial; Nosa’s phone rang immediately. McGovan was sure he could hear Nosa shouting from where he stood; he had only three days to sort this out; this was not good. A concerned passer by ran up to McGovan with genuine concern, asking him if he was ok. McGovan told him to ‘go away and die’ and calmly walked off. He would go for a coffee, call Nosa and arrange to meet Banta for the flight to the UK. Then instruct his guys in the UK to use their contacts to find out what flight the Mitchells were on; he would fly back within 24 hours and expect some results. This would calm things down, Banta would be on the team and the UK team would be waiting for the Mitchells flight at Gatwick.