Priest had one hope left.
If he could drive a quarter of a mile, then get the plate down and the vibrator operating, he might yet trigger an earthquake before the FBI could get to him. And in the chaos of an earthquake, he might escape, as he had before.
He wrenched the wheel around and headed down the road.
Judy fired again as the truck swung away from the downed helicopter. She was hoping to hit either Granger or some essential part of the engine, but she was unlucky. The truck lumbered down the potholed road.
She looked at the crashed helicopter. The pilot was not moving. She looked back to the seismic vibrator as it gradually gathered speed.
Michael ran up to her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said. She made a decision. “You see if you can help the pilot — I’ll go after Granger.”
He hesitated, then said: “Okay.”
Judy holstered her pistol and ran after the truck.
It was a sluggish vehicle, taking long moments to accelerate. At first she closed the distance rapidly. Then Granger changed gear, and the truck picked up speed. Judy ran as fast as she could, heart pounding, chest aching. The tail of the truck carried a huge spare wheel. She was still gaining on it, but not so rapidly. Just when she thought she would never catch it, Granger shifted gears again, and in the momentary slowdown, Judy put on a burst of speed and leaped for the tailgate.
She got one foot on the bumper and grabbed the spare wheel. For a frightening moment she thought she would slip and fall; and she looked down to see the road speeding beneath her. But she managed to hold on. She clambered onto the flatbed among the tanks and valves of the machinery. She staggered to keep her balance, almost fell, and righted herself.
She did not know whether Granger had seen her.
He could not operate the vibrator while the truck was in motion, so she remained where she was, heart thumping, waiting for him to stop.
But he had seen her.
She heard glass shatter and saw the barrel of a gun poke through the rear window of the driver’s cabin. She ducked instinctively. The next moment she heard a slug ricochet off a tank beside her. She leaned to the left so that she was directly behind Granger, and crouched low, heart in her mouth. She heard another shot and cringed, but it missed her. Then he seemed to give up.
But he had not.
The truck braked fiercely. Judy was thrown forward, banging her head painfully against a pipe. Then Granger swerved violently to the right. Judy swung sideways and thought for a terrifying moment that she would be hurled to her death on the hard surface of the road, but she managed to hang on. She saw that Granger was heading suicidally straight for the brick front of a disused factory. She clung to a tank.
At the last moment he braked hard and swerved, but he was a fraction of a second too late. He averted a head-on smash, but the offside fender plowed into the brickwork with a crash of crumpling metal and breaking glass. Judy felt an agonizing pain in her ribs as she was crushed against the tank she was holding. Then she was thrown into the air.
For a dizzy moment she was totally disoriented. Then she hit the ground, landing on her left side. All the breath was knocked out of her body so that she could not even yell with pain. Her head banged against the road, her left arm went numb, and panic filled her mind.
Her head cleared a second or two later. She hurt, but she could move. Her bulletproof jacket had helped to protect her. Her black corduroys were ripped and one knee was bleeding, but not badly. Her nose was bleeding, too: she had reopened the wound Granger had given her yesterday.
She had fallen near the rear corner of the truck, close to its enormous double wheels. If Granger reversed a yard, he would kill her. She rolled sideways, staying behind the truck but getting away from its giant tires. The effort sent sharp pain through her ribs, and she cursed.
The truck did not reverse. Granger was not trying to run her over. Perhaps he had not seen where she had fallen.
She looked up and down the street. She could see Michael struggling to get the pilot out of the crashed helicopter, four hundred yards away. In the other direction, there was no sign of the SWAT wagon or the police cars she had spotted from the air, or of the other FBI helicopters. They were probably seconds away — but she did not have seconds to spare.
She got to her knees and drew her weapon. She expected Granger to jump out of the cabin and shoot at her, but he did not.
She struggled painfully to her feet.
If she approached on the driver’s side of the truck, he would surely see her in his side-view mirror. She went to the other side and risked a peek around the rear corner. There was a big mirror on this side, too.
She dropped to her knees, lay flat on her belly, and crawled under the truck.
She wriggled forward until she was almost beneath the driver’s cab.
She heard a new noise above her and wondered what it was. Glancing up, she saw a huge steel plate above her.
It was being lowered onto her.
Frantically she rolled sideways. Her foot caught on one of the rear wheels. For a few horrendous seconds she struggled to free herself as the massive plate moved inexorably down. It would crush her leg like a plastic toy. At the last moment she pulled her foot out of her shoe and rolled clear.
She was out in the open. Granger would see her at any second. If he leaned out of the passenger door now, gun in hand, he could shoot her easily.
There was a blast like a bomb in her ears, and the ground beneath her shook violently. He had started the vibrator.
She had to stop it. She thought momentarily of Bo’s house. In her mind she saw it crumble and fall, then the whole street collapse.
Pressing her left hand to her side to ease the pain, she forced herself to her feet.
Two paces took her to the nearside door. She needed to open it with her right hand, so she shifted the gun to her left — she could shoot with either — and pointed it up to the sky.
She jumped onto the step, grabbed the door handle, and flung it open.
She came face-to-face with Richard Granger.
He looked as scared as she felt.
She pointed the gun at him with her left hand. “Turn it off!” she screamed. “Turn it
“Okay,” he said, and he grinned and reached beneath his seat.
The grin alerted her. She knew he was not going to turn off the vibrator. She got ready to shoot him.
She had never shot anyone before.
His hand came up holding a revolver like something out of the Wild West.
As the long barrel swung toward her, she aimed her pistol at his head and squeezed the trigger.
The bullet hit him in the face, beside the nose.
He shot her a split second later. The flash and noise of the double gunshot was terrific. She felt a burning pain across her right temple.
Years of training came into play. She had been taught always to fire twice, and her muscles remembered. Automatically she pulled the trigger again. This time she hit his shoulder. Blood spurted immediately. He spun sideways and fell back against the door, dropping the gun from limp fingers.
Judy felt her own blood course down her right cheek. She fought a wave of faintness and nausea. She held the gun pointed at Granger.
