Sharp Shot by Jack Higgins Read Free Book Online Page A

buthe looked very ordinary. Just a man on his
way to work.
    â€œI think I recognise the driver,” McCain confirmed.
“His colleagues call him ‘Nail’, because he’s such a
hardcase.”
    He put his foot down, and sure enough, the car behind began to speed
up too. At the same moment, Rich’s phone rang.
    It was voicemail. He struggled to hear the message as the Range Rover
tore through the village. A second car had pulled out behind the Mercedes.
Its lights were flashing, and after a moment the Merc pulled over to let
the car past. It was a dark BMW. The driver was wearing sunglasses, and so
was the passenger.
    The voice in Rich’s ear was hard to hear. Jade was hissing at him,
asking who it was.
    â€œVoicemail. From Dex Halford,” Rich told her. “He
must have got my text.”
    â€œYou sent him a text?”
    â€œDon’t call him back,” said McCain. “They may be
homing in on your phone. Maybe that’s how they found us.”
    â€œCan they do that?” asked Jade.
    â€œOy!” Rich shouted. He’d listened to the wholemessage and
heard almost none of it. He played it through again. The signal was bad,
it kept breaking up. His battery bleeped a warning.
    â€œIt’s Dex, I got your text, but…except to voicemail. So I
hope you get this. McCain’s a good guy; you’ll be OK with him. Different
story…Darrow, but never mind that. I’ll get on to Ardman, send…Leave
your phone on and we can…Got to go—that’s my other phone ringing.
Good luck!”
    â€œHe’s getting on to Ardman to send help,” Rich told
them.
    â€œHow will Ardman find us?” asked Jade.
    The BMW roared up close, and McCain weaved the Range Rover across the
narrow village street. He took a corner too fast, clipping a parked car.
The BMW slowed, allowing them to draw clear again.
    â€œHe said to leave my phone on. I guess they can trace it
too,” said Rich.
    They were leaving the village. There were two dark BMWs behind them
now, but no sign of the Mercedes.
    â€œCan we keep ahead of them, at least till help arrives?”
Jade asked.
    â€œHow long will that be?” asked McCain. “We don’t
have a lot of fuel.”
    â€œAnd my phone doesn’t have a lot of…” Rich’s phone
beeped again. The display faded and died.
    â€œOh great,” said Jade. “Now they’ll never find
us.”
    â€œSo we have to get away from these jokers on our own,”
said McCain. “Let’s see if we can shake them off.”
    The road ahead turned in a tight bend. McCain dropped down a gear and
took the bend fast. Then he stamped hard on the brake.
    Hovering above the road in front of them, just a few feet off the
ground and almost blocking the width of the lane, was a black helicopter.
The side door was open, and a woman dressed in a dark trouser suit and
wearing sunglasses leaned out. Her long, dark hair was blowing round her
face, but she was utterly focused on what she was doing.
    She was holding a rifle, and she was aiming it at the Range Rover
skidding towards her, smoke rising from the protesting tyres.

4
    Just as it seemed the Range Rover was screeching to a halt, McCain
took his foot off the brake and floored the accelerator. The tyres spun on
the roadway before starting to grip and the vehicle shot forwards—
straight at the helicopter.
    The woman with the rifle fired. Jade saw the flash from the muzzle.
From the angle it looked like she’d been aiming for the tyres, hoping to
disable the Range Rover so the men in the cars behind could catch them.
    But the Range Rover’s change of speed had thrown out her aim and the
bullet thumped harmlessly into the asphalt. The woman had no time for a
second shot. The helicopter was so low over the road that the Range Rover
was heading straight for it…
    The pilot reacted quickly. The nose of the helicopter moved upwards.
Grit and dirt