Eric Lustbader - The Testament

But instead of braking herself, Donatella pushed the accelerator to the floor. Like an elephant brushes off a fly, the truck swept the dented BMW out of its way. The kid leaned out the window and screamed obscenities.

"She's still coming!" Bravo shouted, and he heard Jenny curse in reply. The roaring was immense, filling the night with its ominous sound. "She's right behind us!"

At the last possible instant, Jenny directed the Lexus into a driveway, across a swath of newly mown grass and onto the neighboring vacant lot, which, judging by the heavy equipment parked on it, was in the process of being cleared. They shot forward as the truck jumped the curb and drove onto the lot. They bumped along for perhaps five hundred feet.

"Oh God," Jenny said in his ear.

They were at the edge of a precipice, hidden until now by trees and the equipment. There was no time to maneuver, no time even to think. In an instant, they went over, plummeting down. They struck the bare earth with bone-jarring suddenness. The Lexus bounced once, catapulted over on its side so that Bravo and Jenny were thrown together.

"Jenny," he said, "are you all right?"

She nodded. "You?"

"Just shaken up."

He reached up, tried to open the window, but the electronics were shot. Lifting his leg, he smashed the sole of his shoe hard against the glass once. The safety glass shattered, but held together. He kicked again and a hole appeared. Using his heel to smash out what shards were left, he levered himself out, then turned and helped Jenny out.

For a moment, they lay on the ground. Regaining his breath was easier than regaining his composure. Above them, the twin beams of the truck's headlights struck out into the night, seeking to capture them in their glare. Then, as Bravo groaned and rolled up onto one elbow, he saw another beam flash out and down, probing the tangled darkness in which they lay. Donatella had switched on a portable searchlight.

Jenny reached out, wordlessly pulling at him so that he followed, both of them crawling into the densest swath of undergrowth. The rain continued unabated, a natural shield against detection.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

He nodded. "You?"

"Nothing a good night's sleep wouldn't cure." Her face was close beside him. She gave him one of her thin smiles. "Let's go."

They moved cautiously through the underbrush until they reached the road. Keeping to the lush verge, they headed away from the crash site. But they hadn't gone more than a hundred yards when a late-model Lincoln came racing around a curve toward them. Jenny grabbed Bravo, dragged him back into the foliage.

They could hear the purr of the engine as the car slowed and stopped, and they crept further into the jungle of undergrowth. They crouched, listening to the sound of their own breath.

Jenny whispered, "Don't worry. She'll never find us."

At that moment, they heard a rustle terrifyingly close by and, turning, saw the outline of a figure looming over them.

A metallic glimmering brought to them the image of a gun, and a English-accented male voice said in a self-satisfied tone, "I wouldn't count on that."

"I knew it. I knew you'd run into trouble you couldn't handle."

"Kavanaugh!" Jenny said. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" the figure said. "Watching your sorry ass."

Bravo looked from the man to Jenny. "You know him?" he said to her.

"Braverman Shaw," she said by way of introduction, "meet Ronnie Kavanaugh."

"You poor bastard." Kavanaugh didn't offer his hand. "But all's well now that Uncle Ronnie's ridden to the rescue."

Reaching up and behind her, she undid the braid Bravo had made of her hair. "Kavanaugh is a Guardian, like me."

"Oh, not like you, princess," Kavanaugh said deadpan. "I know what I'm about."

"Is this the sonuvabitch who failed to protect my father?"

"I know you aren't referring to me." Kavanaugh had the cold, hard, domineering sneer down pat. "Surely you can't be that ignorant."

"He was never assigned to your father," Jenny said tightly. "Dexter Shaw would never put up with his attitude."

Bravo glanced upward through the rain to the top of the precipice. All was dark and still. Where had Donatella gone? He scrambled to his feet, held out his hand to help Jenny up. She ignored it, quickly stood beside him.

Kavanaugh gestured like a lord to guests newly arrived at his manor house. "Shall we?"

Under his guidance, they moved off into the thick, black underbrush. As they pushed back bullbriers and squelched through earth churned to mud, Jenny told him about Rossi and Donatella.

"I caught a glimpse of her," Kavanaugh said, "but where's Rossi?"

"Bravo killed him," Jenny said.

Kavanaugh raised his black eyebrows. "Did he now?"

"Drowned him in the cemetery lake."

"A novel manner of murder, to be sure. Well, that's one less bastard to deal with, but now his bitch is out for blood, isn't she." He was a handsome man and, despite the inherent cruelty of his smile, at once rugged and refined. Bravo could picture him in a made-to-measure Savile Row tuxedo, a single-malt Scotch in his hand, playing chemin de fer at a fashionable London casino.

"There's only one road down this way." Kavanaugh pointed toward the hazy globe of a streetlight. "I parked in the shadows just there to the right."

Perhaps a hundred yards from the car he stopped and handed the keys to Jenny. "Here's what you're going to do, princess. You and Shaw will get into the car and drive through the pool of light."

"Are you crazy?" Jenny said. "That's just what she'll be looking for."

Kavanaugh grinned. "Isn't that right. She's so maddened, she'll come after you without a second thought."

"You bet she will," Bravo said, as unhappy with Kavanaugh's plan as Jenny obviously was.

"And when she does," Kavanaugh said slowly, as if reciting the alphabet to a slightly dim child, "I will be waiting to gun her down."

Jenny shook her head. "You're using Bravo as bait. It's too dangerous."

"Strong emotion of any sort-most especially rage-makes one commit stupid acts. I'm using Donatella's rage against her," Kavanaugh said. "D'you have a better notion?"

In the ensuing silence, he drew his gun. "I thought not. Let's get to it."

The car-a large Lincoln-was precisely where Kavanaugh said it would be. Jenny circled the vehicle, her fingertips running lightly over the painted metal.

"Okay," she nodded, "get in."

"You gave in too easily," Bravo said as he strapped himself into the passenger's seat.

"What would you know about it?" she said tartly.

"So you really think this will work?"

Jenny inserted the key into the ignition. "It's a good plan, but I'll deny I said it if you ever tell him. I couldn't stand the smug look on his face."

Bravo regarded her a moment, weighing something in his mind. "You have a thing for him, don't you?"

She snorted. "What? Are you kidding?"

"Your cheeks are pink… princess."

She turned on him. "Don't be an ass."

Turning on the ignition, she put the Lincoln in gear, drove it onto the road, which ran in a more or less north-south direction. On their right was the rock face of the precipice, on their left was underbrush, glades and thick stands of leafy ash, beech and alder. They headed north, and the halo of illumination grew as they neared the closest streetlight.

"See anything?" Bravo said.

"More than you do," she snapped.

The rain had lessened, but a pearly mist had sprung up, blurring distant objects, dimming house lights to a soft, indistinct glow. They drove into the pool of illumination, which lay on the mist like a silver pond. The tarmac was altogether invisible.

They were just passing the streetlight when all at once they saw a large, blocky vehicle coming very fast toward them from out of the mist.