Chapter 1
Looking through the rearview mirror, Akbar noticed that they were being followed by a woman on a bike. As he approached the intersection, he read the name of the street they were in, and glanced at the rearview mirror again.
The bike was closing in.
At the intersection, Akbar jerked the steering wheel to the right, and skidded the navy blue GMC Yukon into the avenue. A driver from the opposite direction of traffic pressed the horn while dodging the Yukon. Akbar drove around a taxi while yelling at the man in the backseat.
“Lean over the floorboard!”
The man opened his mouth to protest, and looked back through the rear window. The bike was turning at the intersection.
“Please I recommend you to do what I say sir.” Akbar glanced at him again.
The man still wouldn’t obey.
He turned his attention to the road ahead, and continued speaking.
“Sir, this is for your own protection!”
He gave up while nodding, and leaned over to the floor board. The hood of his sweater covered his head. Ahead, Akbar saw the traffic light changing from yellow to red. He cursed under his breath, and pressed the horn in short beeps. Traffic began to slow down as he approached the intersection. Thinking about driving on the sidewalk, he looked to the right, and saw a car exiting a parking garage. In one fast motion, he spun the steering wheel to his right, kicked the accelerator, and squealed the tires. The Yukon went up on the entry way. Now inside, he quickly veered left and turned into an adjacent parking ramp.
The female riding the bike downshifted, and followed the Yukon into the parking garage. Missing the evasive maneuver, she continued on a parallel row separated by a line of cars. She drew her 9mm semi-automatic with her right hand and aimed at the Yukon.
A married couple that were getting inside of their car, turned their attention to the bike, and crouched to the floor upon realizing that they were in the line of fire.
The single row of cars was about to end, and Akbar let go of the accelerator. As the female riding the bike approached, she fired a round at the window on the right rear door, and it shattered the glass on top of the man sitting on the rear seat.
He screamed.
The roar coming from the exhaust pipes of the bike caused some of the vehicles to set off their alarms. The woman crouched next to her car with her husband, reached inside of her purse, and grabbed her phone. She dialed 911.
At the end of the ramp, Akbar pulled the hand brake, and swerved to the right. The Yukon skidded sideways, and the left side got smashed into a parked car. His body jarred from the impact, bruising his left shoulder.
The Yukon came to a complete stop with smoke coming from under the hood. In a passing Nano-second everything fell silent. Then, the bike appeared from behind the last car in the isle, and the rider saw the Yukon across from her.
Akbar’s heart raced, and his mouth went dry. As if in slow motion their eyes met. Curling his fingers on the twelve o’clock position on the steering wheel, Akbar threw the gear in reverse and looked through the rear window. Pulling away as fast as he could, bullets ricocheted on the front bumper. One of the headlights exploded. As the smoke rose in the air, the smell of burning rubber assaulted their nostrils.
Akbar touched the brakes, spun the steering wheel to 180 degrees and smashed the rear of the Yukon into another parked car. His body whiplashed. The body of the man on the back seat bucked as well.
As he took the time to glance at the woman following them, a bullet exploded the passenger window. He ducked his head, and looked straight ahead.
Holly shit!
The adrenaline doubled his heartrate. Shifting gears again, he stepped hard on the gas pedal. The man lying on the back seat used his hands to cover his ears.
The female riding the bike squeezed the trigger, and continued shooting as the Yukon went towards the ramp, disappearing out of view. The gunshots ended, and the man opened his eyes. He was seating up when Akbar exited the garage.
Didn’t I tell you to remain laying down?
Orange light from street lamps illuminated the interior of the Yukon, and he felt a cold wind coming through the shattered passenger glass.
The Yukon bounced hard as it moved from the incline ramp to the avenue. Swerving to his right, the tires skidded again. Akbar drove around a van coming from the opposite lane.
The man seated on the rear seat removed the hood from over his head with shaking hands.
It was Sam Mijan!
The world’s most dangerous assassin!
Loitering and prowling through an American city!
Looking straight ahead, he studied the traffic with fear in his eyes. In a distance, wailing police sirens disturbed the evening.
“We are about to get caught. You are an incompetent bastard!”
“We are not sir. I promise!” Akbar glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
Akbar held the steering wheel with his left hand, while keeping the accelerator pedal to the floor.
The female riding the bike exited the garage without looking, and a horn was blared at her. Dodging vehicles, she accelerated into the left lane, and pulled almost even with the Yukon. As she brought her 9mm semi-automatic up, she aimed it at Sam Mijan.
Suddenly, the prolonged sound of a loud horn broke her concentration and she looked forward. A truck started crossing the intersection. The female riding the bike started squeezing the brakes. As she leaned, and tilted the bike to her left, she began skidding towards the intersection.
I never would have guessed that I would be stopped by something so common as-
As she passed beneath the trailer of an eighteen wheeler, another horn blared. Then, a transportation bus slammed into her, and tossed her in the air.
The bike continued sliding across the intersection. Her crumpled body fell back to the ground, and she felt a pain running through her body.
Removing the shattered helmet from her head, she lay sprawled on the asphalt. Her vision was getting darker. She heard her name in the darkness.
“Dammit, Elsie!”
