John Ringo - A Deeper Blue

“Okay,” Dunn said. “I’ve convinced them that you’re one of the good guys. Bad guys shooting at you helped. What are we going to do about the guys trying to kill you?”

“That’s handled,” Mike said. “Lydia, you there, dear?”

“Yes, Kildar,” Lydia said.

“Tell Dragon it’s time.”

“Dragon, Dragon, Keldara Base. Kildar is southbound on I-4 south of 535. Three black Mercedes in pursuit. He requests having his back scratched, over.”

“Got it,” Kacey said. “ETA three minutes.”

The Hind had been loitering southwest of Bayhill in an area that was still undeveloped. She’d mostly been hovering over palmetto scrub and scaring the hell out of the armadillos and feral hogs that made a home of the inhospitable scrub.

Now she powered up and headed east. Time for the Dragon to eat.

The body of the former pilot tumbled into the triangle of grass at the intersection of the Beeline and I-4 as the helicopter dropped down and accelerated.

“We cannot get up to this car,” the leader of the hit team said over the radio. “You might have to take him out.”

“We are on our way,” the Colombian pilot said. “It will take about a minute to catch up.”

“You just missed the exit for Disney,” Britney pointed out as Mike blew past U.S. 192.

“I know,” he said, sliding into the emergency lane again and staying there. The suspension really didn’t like it. “I’d rather keep on track. We’ve got friends headed in.”

“Dragon?” Britney asked. “You know we’re on national TV, right?”

“Life sucks sometimes,” Mike said.

“Kildar, Keldara Base.”

“Go.”

“Be aware that police now report a stolen helicopter headed towards your position.”

“Life really sucks sometimes.”

Once past the exit for Celebration and World Drive the traffic opened up a bit. Mike poured on the gas, weaving through the tourists headed for Tampa, the three Mercedes falling farther and farther behind. But Britney had rolled down her window and now, fighting the airstream, looked behind them.

“Bell Ranger, low on the right, coming up fast,” she said, sticking her head back in and tightening her seatbelts. “What are you going to do?”

“Drive,” Mike said then braked. “Dragon, Dragon, heading north,” he said, skidding sideways into an emergency crossing.

As he accelerated into the northbound lane, one of the Mercedes tried to cross the median and rolled over. Another got stuck. The third followed him through the emergency crossing but, with lower acceleration, fell farther behind. Not a lot. They were definitely souped to the max. However, Mike could see the Bell Jet Ranger now and it simply pivoted. The doors were open and he could see the machine guns carried by the passengers. Tracers flew past the GT as he ripped through the gears and back up to full speed, twisting through the traffic. A line of bullet holes appeared in a CCC truck ahead of him as he drove under the fire.

“Dragon?” Mike asked.

“I see them,” Dragon replied. “Look up and left.”

Mike glanced that way and grinned. The Hind was dropping down like a peregrine on a dove. On the other hand, it wasn’t real close.

“You know there are two birds following you, right?” Dragon said. “I think one of them’s a TV crew.”

“Shoot the one that’s shooting at me . I’m not sure I could get all deniable about shooting a TV crew. Again.”

Rounds cracked through the roof and into the backseat as Mike slid into the shadow of another tractor trailer and braked, hard. He rolled along there for a second, but that let the Mercedes catch up and one of the passengers leaned out the window holding an automatic carbine. Rounds started to slam into the rear of the car. Which was where the engine sat, so that was bad .

“Dragon, these motherfuckers are shooting my GT ,” Mike pointed out. “This is not happy making.”

“Almost there, Kildar.”

He accelerated out of the cover of the truck as the Mercedes tried to drive alongside, rounds bouncing into the interior of the GT. Again, he was able to accelerate away much faster than the Mercedes could manage but the Ranger just dipped its nose and kept up. It had swung over to the right and rounds cracked through the hood. But they were going to find the range sooner or later and either take out the engine or Mike and Britney.

Another set of rounds cracked right past Mike’s head, one tracer flying by his nose and burying itself in the driver’s door, then there was a tremendous explosion off to his right. Glancing that way, he saw the flaming wreckage of a Jet Ranger crashing into the fields surrounding the Kissimmee River.

The Mercedes, finally noticing that Mike had top cover, cut across the lanes and into the median. As it bounced into the grass four laserlike lines of fire tracked across it and the Mercedes burst into fire, rolling into the oncoming lane. Cars dodged it successfully. Let the local sheriff’s department handle that.

“Okay, Dragon, thanks,” Mike said. “Move to secondary loiter point.”

“You’re welcome, Kildar,” Dragon replied. “Dragon Flight, out.”

“Jesus Christ,” Fisher said as the smoking GT pulled into one of the VIP slots in the employee parking lot. “You really fucked up your car, Mr. Jenkins.”

“ Other people fucked up my car,” Mike said, sourly. “Of course, most of them are dead, now. I’d call it even but I really like this car.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Fisher said. “Was that a Hind on the TV?”

“Shit,” Mike said with a sigh. “It was a news bird, huh? I hope they didn’t follow me here.”

“They tried to follow the Hind,” Fisher said. “But they lost it. That’s one fucking fast Hind.”

“It should be for what I paid for it,” Mike said, pulling a large backpack out of the front boot. There were some bullet holes in it so he checked the contents but they were all fine. He pulled out the body armor and slid off his shirt, then slid the armor on. The extra bulk was hardly noticeable under the Hawaiian shirt, the pattern of flowers breaking up the outline. He did have to button it up one button, though. A Desert Eagle .50 slid into the waistband of his shorts. It was, also, well concealed by the long shirt. Heavy but the stopping power was nice.

“What do you want me to do?” Britney asked.

“Stay out of the way,” Mike replied, then held up a hand to forestall a reply. “I know, I’ve been dragging you around into nasty incidents all day. Why stop now? Because my teams have this covered and I don’t want you to get hurt. It stopped being a game back there on I-4. So… Head back to the hotel. Please.”

“Okay,” Britney said.

“Just that?” Mike asked. “ ’Okay?’ ”

“How about, ‘I’m really tired of being shot at and being around poison gas,’ ” Britney replied with a grin. “I’m fine with sitting this one out. I’ll go catch a ride.” With that she headed for the employee entrance.

“Smart girl,” Fisher said.

“Smarter than me,” Mike admitted. “Say, I don’t suppose Disney has a fantastic car rebuilding shop?”

“The studio guys do,” Fisher replied. “Want me to talk to them?”

“Please. And ask them if they could redo it in black and silver. Maybe with a tiger face on the hood?”

“… asking that everyone keep an especial lookout for any unusual activity,” the sheriff for Orange County said to the room full of reporters. “I would now like to introduce Lieutenant Bob Dunn, head of the Orange County Anti-Terrorism Task Force. Lieutenant Dunn?”

“Thank you, sir,” Dunn said, stepping up to the podium and blinking at the bright lights. “I’ve got a short statement about the events that have just occurred. Two major weapons of mass destruction attacks occurred in the Orlando-Orange County area. The first was by use of a stolen spray truck. The intent appeared to be to drive down the north end of International Drive. There was a short release near Sand Lake that, unfortunately, caused several deaths. That area is now closed off and we don’t have a full casualty list as yet. Due to the nature of the attack, we are having to approach the area cautiously. When we do, and next-of-kin have been informed, we will release the casualty list. Currently there are only five confirmed casualties but, unfortunately, we are certain that there will be more. Two terrorists are among the confirmed dead.