Dr. Death by Nick Carter - [Killmaster 100] Read Free Book Online

another few seconds, we'd be climbing the roof of the car in front of us. But I didn't intend to wait those seconds. My eyes scanned the oncoming traffic, and I found what I needed. My foot hit the brake, then released it, as I spun the wheel, and sent the car in a screeching two-wheeled U-turn across the divider and into the oncoming traffic. Into a space big enough for only one car.
    "Mon Dieu!"
Michelle gasped again. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her face was white. "You will kill us!"
    The Frenchman had hurtled past still going toward New York City. It would take him another minute or so to find a place for his U-turn, especially in a car that's made for comfort and easy handling on long drives, rather than for maneuvering.
    "Just doing my best to keep you awake," I told Michelle, then spun the wheel once more, without bothering to brake or down-shift this time, sending the car onto Southern State Parkway.
    "I swear to you," Michelle said, "I'll never sleep again. Just slow down."
    "Soon," I said. Then glanced in the rearview mirror and cursed silently. The Frenchman was there. Twenty car lengths behind, but there in back of us. His ratty little pal was a better driver than I'd given him credit for.
    "Hang on," I told Michelle. "It's time to get serious."
    I pulled hard on the wheel, shot over to the extreme left lane, inches ahead of a tractor trailer, then proceeded to further infuriate its driver by slowing to 30 mph. He passed on the right, with an outraged blast of horn. Other cars proceeded to do the same. Now the Frenchman was only two car lengths behind, also in the extreme left lane. I scanned the traffic pattern, alternately speeding up and slowing down as we approached the red light for the turnoff to Baisley Pond Park. I hugged the left lane, slowing down to 20 miles an hour as the light came into view and I saw it was red.
    The 200 yards of road directly ahead of me were clear in my lane. The light turned green and I slammed my foot on the gas. By the time we hit the intersection, the BMW was doing 60. The Lincoln was right behind, at almost the same speed. I let the BMW get two-thirds of the way through the intersection without slackening my speed, then pulled hard left on the wheel, down-shifting without braking. The BMW spun like a top, virtually in one place. My body and Michelle's were flung violently, but held against the safety belts. In less than half a second, my foot was on the accelerator again, sending the BMW across the path of the Lincoln, less than inches from its radiator, and into the intersection. I stood on the brake, felt the BMW slamming to a halt just in time to miss one oncoming car, then hammered down the accelerator and shot across the intersection just in time to miss another in the far lane. It could have torn another car apart, or sent it into uncontrollable spins and stalls, but the BMW accelerated smoothly again as I pointed it up the park's perimeter road.
    "You okay?" I asked Michelle.
    She opened her mouth, but couldn't speak. I could feel her trembling.
    "Relax," I said, taking one hand from the wheel to pat her thigh. "It gets easier now."
    And then I saw the Lincoln again. It was almost a quarter mile back down the dead-straight road, but even in the thickening twilight I could make out its distinctive low silhouette.
    This time I didn't even bother to curse. The ratty little man was obviously a natural-born driver. He could match me daredevil stunt for daredevil stunt for quite awhile — long enough, in fact, to make it inevitable that the police would stop us. Which I couldn't afford even if he, with diplomatic plates, probably could.
    "It's time," I said, as much to myself as Michelle, "for a change of pace."
    I let the BMW slow to a comfortable, legal, 40 miles an hour. The Lincoln approached. In the rearview mirror I could see that one front fender was badly bashed, the headlight out, and a side window smashed. The Frenchman looked to be in a state of shock.