Pele's Fire. Don Pendleton

Чтение книги онлайн.

      AOLANI WISHED she knew what she was doing. Okay, driving, that was obvious, but driving for her life while men with guns tailgated her was something new and terrifying.

      Something that could make her lose it, if she wasn’t very careful now.

      “Start looking for a place to stop,” Bolan said.

      “Stop what? The car?”

      “And try to take them by surprise, if possible.”

      “Any suggestions?” she inquired sarcastically.

      “When you see a likely spot, first kill your lights, then turn in without braking. Throw them off. Something like that.”

      She understood about the taillights and the brake lights giving her away, but with the chase car riding on her bumper, Aolani didn’t think she’d be deceiving anybody with a sudden swerve.

      “They’ll see me, anyway,” she said.

      “With any luck, they’ll overshoot,” Bolan replied. “Buy us a few more seconds to get ready.”

      Ready? Sure. Ready to die.

      Her only weapon was a can of pepper spray, unused since she had purchased it. Polunu, at her personal insistence, was unarmed. That gave them one gun against six or more, and Aolani didn’t even know if Cooper was a decent shot.

      We’re dead, she thought. I may as well just drive around until I find an open grave, and jump right in.

      And it was her fault, damn it. Had to be. The gunmen had to have followed her to Polunu’s place, or had the rundown little house staked out. In either case, they’d clearly followed her to the Royal Mausoleum and waited to see who showed up. Now Cooper was at mortal risk, along with Polunu and herself.

      Focus!

      A place to stop.

      A place to—

      There!

      “Hang on!” she warned her passengers, and did as Cooper had suggested—killed her lights and swung the steering wheel hard right, onto a graveled access road that pointed toward some kind of prefab shed, presumably where maintenance equipment would be stored.

      Thirty or forty yards along the road, she stamped down on her brake pedal and slid the Datsun to a halt. Cooper was out and on the move before the sound of crunching gravel died, dust swirling in the headlight beams of the approaching chase cars.

      “Perfect,” Aolani muttered. “Now we’re trapped.”

      “Trapped here?” Polunu was in a panic, cringing in his seat, half-crumpled to the floorboard. “Why’d you stop?”

      He knew as well as she did, but his fear had taken over.

      “Polunu, get out of the car!”

      “They’ll kill me! Kill us all!”

      “You think that sitting here will save you?” she demanded. “What about the gas tank?”

      “Jesus!”

      That got Polunu moving, fumbling with the inside handle of his door and spilling out into the night. He left the door wide open, making Aolani reach across to slam it and kill the inner dome lights, cursing all the while.

      Her car had slithered to a stop across the graveled access road, on a diagonal. Aolani was on the side nearest their rapidly approaching enemies, but fear propelled her in a leap across the Datsun’s hood to cover.

      Damn good thing I’m wearing slacks, she thought, and nearly laughed. Then thought, Hysteria, just what I need right now.

      But what she really needed was a SWAT team or a helicopter gunship swooping in to save her from the gunmen who would surely kill her any minute now, unless some miracle occurred.

      Who should she pray to, in the final moments of her life? Not Pele, since her acolytes were those about to do the killing.

      Maybe Kukailimoku, the Hawaiian god of war. He’d be a good one to recruit, when bullets were about to fly—but would he save two Polynesians and a haole who were bent on ruining the plans of Pele’s Fire?

      The worst part, Aolani thought, was that she didn’t even know the goddamned plan. Polunu had either kept the details to himself, or really didn’t know them in the first place.

      Either way, it seemed that curiosity was proving fatal once again.