Stephanie Doyle - Calculated Risk

Shaking his head he gave her back her gun. “You have a warped sense of humor.”

“At least I have one,” she rallied as she shoved the gun deep in her jeans at the small of her back where she knew it was secure. Then she began to assess the space. “You got a plan?”

“I’m working on it.” Quinlan, too, studied the small area looking for a possibly stealthy exit. There was none.

“Each of us could get out on either side,” she suggested. “He can’t cover both of us.”

“He doesn’t have to. If your theory is right, he won’t be shooting at you.”

Sabrina nodded, agreeing with his conclusion. “Tough break for you then.”

He smirked. “I was thinking more along the lines of both of us surviving.”

“Oh.”

“Besides, we’re locked in. Remember?”

He turned and faced the back seat cushion. He felt around the headrest and tugged. The entire back seat snapped loose from the catches that held it in place and he was able to lower it until it was almost parallel to the seat.

They both stared at the empty trunk.

“He’ll be expecting us to find a way to unlock the doors and get out that way,” she commented, knowing she was merely echoing Quinlan’s thoughts. “Can you hot-wire something and lower the partition?”

“Why?”

“The rearview mirror.” It was all she needed to say.

Quinlan nodded. A little muscle and some help from a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit and he was able to get the casing off the car door panel. He fished out a bunch of wires, picked two, stripped them of their plastic casing and twisted them together. A hum sounded, and the glass between the front and back seats slid down.

That done, he reached through the opening and pulled at the mirror until he managed to break it free from its hinge. She let him work, while she pushed the back seat down as far as possible so she could squeeze her upper body back into the trunk.

“No,” he objected. “I’ll do it.”

“You’re too big. If you crawl back here you’ll make the car dip too much and he’ll know what we’re doing. Besides, I’ve got more room to maneuver,” she explained logically. “Give me the mirror.”

He hesitated.

“You know I’m right. And I know that drives you around the bend a little bit, but this time you don’t have a choice. Hand me the mirror.”

Quinlan passed the mirror through the opening and put it next to her. “There should be a release switch that opens the trunk from the inside.”

Sabrina had already found it. The problem was she had an image of pushing the switch and having the trunk top spring open. It would broadcast their location and could leave her a sitting duck, depending upon where the guy had taken up his position to wait them out. Shifting in slow increments so as not to cause too much motion in the car, she turned first on her side, then on her back. She found a wire secured to the top of the trunk, probably for the brake lights, and tugged. It was tight enough for what she needed.

Holding on to the line, she reached over her head for the button located just under the catch that held the trunk top in place. She pushed it, heard the pop that signaled the catch releasing, then clutched the wire in her hand to hold the trunk lid.

The mirror in her hand now, she loosened her grip on the wire just enough to allow the lid up about an inch. If their kidnapper was watching the trunk, he might realize it had been opened, but she still wasn’t giving him enough space to make a decent shot. Not that she imagined he would, without knowing exactly who he was shooting at.

But Quinlan was right. That was still only a theory. Sabrina saw no need to put it to the test.

Instantly, she knew she was going to need a better angle in order to use the mirror effectively. She turned again, this time even slower, until she was once more on her belly, her legs stretched out over the folded-down seat. She eased the mirror out through the gap she’d left and surveyed the area surrounding the car.

Morning had turned the sky a sort of purplish hue. It was cloudless, which helped the visibility, and she found she didn’t have a problem making out the leafless trees a few feet in front of her.

“What do you see?”

“Trees,” she reported. “Lots of them. He’s parked us in the middle of the damn woods.”

“Can you see him?”

Sabrina angled the mirror first to her right, then to her left. Then back to the right, only this time not as far. Thick trees, thin trees, a squirrel and…there. Behind an oak tree that faced the front of the car so he could see if either car door opened. She could make out the bulky black sleeve of a coat that was slightly exposed, but not much else. The guy was staying low.

“I see him.” She pulled the mirror in through the space she had created, then tugged on the wire slightly to shrink the gap without actually closing the trunk. Turning her head, she saw Quinlan’s face in the opening by the car seat.

“I think I can make the shot.” She watched as suspicion immediately crept into his eyes.

“Do you even have a shot?”

He wasn’t going to like her answer. But it was the best chance they had. “It’s sort of an angular shot.”

“Jesus, Bri,” he groaned, knowing exactly what she meant by an angular shot. “Someday you’re going to learn that you’re not Annie Oakley, but today is not going to be that day.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We can wait. I’ve got my cell, we can call for backup.”

“Backup? That means we have to wait until they get there, then sit out the standoff. All that is going to take time. Time we don’t have if Kahsan is truly en route.”

He paused, then asked, “Can we toss something out of the trunk, cause a distraction and make him give up his position?”

“He’s too far away. All we’ll do is give up our position. What do we have to lose if I take a shot and miss?”

“Your life. This guy took out Horner, who, trust me, was no slouch. If you miss and he gets a chance to return fire he won’t see who is doing the shooting.”

Quinlan was right. But his prophecy of doom wasn’t going to change her mind.

“ If I miss, the surprise of the shot should at least buy me enough time to close the trunk. Then we’ll call for help.”

Quinlan’s expression remained grim.

“The more time we waste, the more time we lose to Kahsan. And I mean it… I really do have to pee.”

“Don’t get cute on the shot,” he said, relinquishing the battle. “Take what you know you can hit.”

Removing the Defender from the back of her jeans, she moved it in front of her head. Then she inched her way closer to the edge of the trunk so she could use the mirror to once again find her target. This time there was a forearm exposed. And part of a shoulder.

His position now committed to memory, Sabrina pulled the mirror back inside and dropped it beside her. She turned again until she was on her back. In order to get off the shot that she wanted, she was going to need to open the trunk a little wider. Enough to get her hand over the side of the car. The position and the angle of the gun was key.

She closed her eyes and saw the trees in front of the car exactly as they had existed seconds ago in her view through the mirror. She saw the target. Slightly to the left of the car. Behind an oak. His left forearm and left shoulder exposed.

The fact that he’d exposed his left side meant it wasn’t his gun hand. So a shot at his shoulder, even if she hit him, wouldn’t-shouldn’t, depending on his training-stop him from returning fire.

In the picture in her head, Sabrina saw the tree immediately to the target’s left. The bark on the tree looked thick and rough. A shot fired at the perfect angle, at the perfect height would ricochet sharp right. Exactly where the target’s head should be.