Road Rules Online

Chapter 34

The Ram lived up to its name, ramming Sharon’s rear bumper constantly.  Only the ruts in the road bouncing both trucks kept her from getting shot.  That and luck, she thought.

She rounded another corner and saw cops up ahead, but she’d never reach them in time.  The path took her close to the river.  She downshifted and gunned the motor to get a little distance, even if only for a few precious seconds.  When she outpaced the Ram enough, she braked hard and swung the back of the Tahoe toward the river.  The Ram came up on her as she backed up to the embankment.

Cruisers closed the distance on the Ram, but that didn’t stop the shooter from getting out of the truck.  He walked toward her, oblivious to the sirens blaring.

“Get out of the truck,” he screamed.  “Now!”

The driver of the Ram jumped out and ran toward the approaching police.

Sharon rolled down her window.  “Stop, or I back this thing into the river.”

The man, dark-haired and wild-eyed, kept coming, breathing hard, but the gun steady in his hand.  “Get out of that truck, or I’ll drill you where you sit.”

“I’m not kidding.  I’ll send this thing into the river.”

Three cruisers formed a perimeter around the Ram, blocking it off.  Cops from another cruiser already had the driver in cuffs and bent over the hood.  A Chatham County deputy shouted for the man to stop where he was.

“You’re bluffing, little girl,” he said.

“Your loss.”  Sharon knocked the shifter into reverse and hit the gas.  As the Tahoe rolled back, she flung the door open and leaped out onto the grass.

The Tahoe tumbled down the embankment to the river’s edge.  Landing on all fours, it rolled back into the Savannah River and started to drift.  As the water deepened, it sank.

Sharon sat on the grass holding her wrist.  She looked up at the wild man coming at her, gun pointed straight between the eyes.  A plain blue sedan skidded to a halt with the other cruisers.

“Franco,” a blonde woman from the sedan shouted as she came flying out of the car.  “Put the gun down slowly.  Now.”

“You fucking black whore,” said Franco, jacking a round into the chamber.  “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Sharon’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him.  “Then do it.”

He raised the gun.  Three shots echoed throughout the cemetary.

Three red holes opened up in his chest.  A fourth pop made Franco’s left eye explode.  Sharon rolled to her right as Franco pitched forward, the back of his head gone.  Sharon looked up and saw the blonde woman and Carlo Estevez standing beside a Savannah uniform, pistols raised.

She began to sob when she also saw Uncle Bob with his own gun raised.

Estevez rushed forward and knelt beside her.  “Are you all right, Sharon?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

“But the Chest.  You destroyed the Chest.  And the bones inside.”

She shook her head.  “We planned for this.”

“How?”

She didn’t hear him.  She got to her feet and ran to her uncle, where she collapsed in his arms, happy the ordeal was over.

***

“Mr. Blake,” the reporter shouted, “why did you steal the Chest of St. Jakob?”

Mike ignored her and shoved the cameraman out of the way.  “Your Eminence.”

Bishop Hewson watched him approach.  Two uniforms closed ranks in front of him.

He looked over at one of them.  His nametag read Keltner.  “Officer Keltner, I owe you a beer.”  He looked back at the bishop.  “Your Eminence, I have a surprise for you.”

“I think the surprise you had for me took off for the river,” said Hewson.

Mike smiled. “Just the shipping crate.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had a feeling the buyer was still lurking around,” he said.  “If you’ll follow me.  Bring a couple of police if you like.”  To Keltner, he said, “In fact, I insist.”

The reporter barged in and shoved a microphone in his face.  “Tell us why you hid the Chest for…”

“No reporters,” said Mike.  “And one camera only.  If he stays the hell back.”

“You can’t do this,” the reporter said. “What about my…”

Mike snatched the microphone from her and broke it over his knee.  “I’ll do an interview with you later.  Now, out of the way, blondie.”

Hewson surveyed the group surrounding him.  “Where to, lad?”

“Across the street.”

***

Miguel watched as Myron Blake led a group that included the bishop.  One WSVN cameraman tagged along some length back.

Miguel turned to Luis and said, “Let me check this out.”  He jogged over to the cameraman and fell in step with him.

The group made its way across the street.  Blake ducked down an alley behind an English pub called The Newcastle.  About halfway back, he stopped at a dumpster.

“You didn’t put it in there,” said the bishop, his voice wavering.  “Did you?”

Blake leaned in behind the dumpster and pulled out a tablecloth.  “Your Eminence, if you and one of the officers would step over here.”

Hewson came forward with Keltner, and knelt.  “The Chest!  Intact!”

The cameraman pushed his way forward to get a shot.  Neither Blake nor the bishop stopped him.

Miguel took out his cell phone and speed-dialed Gallagher.  “Your Eminence, it’s Miguel.  Hewson just took possession of the Chest.  It’s intact.”