A Touch of Greed by Gary Ponzo Page B

Stevie watched the helicopter follow a northwestern flight path.
    “Nick,” Dan said. “That’s pretty risky for the hostages.”
    Nick understood the behavior of terrorists; once those gunmen realized the hostages were simply cargo—they were dead. They could see the truck in the distance, flying over potholes, a trail of leaves floating in its wake. Nick’s chest tightened. “Dan, they killed Jennifer Steele. I trust Greg to take the shot.”
    There was another long pause, until Greg Parker’s voice came over the phone. “I’ll get him, Nick.”
    Of course it wasn’t the gunman Nick was worried about taking a bullet and Parker knew that. The helicopter was following the dirt path now, low to the ground, approaching the red X.
    “Slow down, Dan,” Nick said. A moment later, he announced, “Right there. Drop them off right there.”
    The chopper hovered for a moment while the two men scrambled out and rolled a spike strip across the narrow dirt path. The helicopter’s nose came down and moved along the road directly at the truck which was coming around a corner a hundred yards away.
    Nick knew what the pilot was doing; he was attempting to distract the driver so he wouldn’t spot the snipers waiting for them.
    “Don’t get cute, Dan,” Nick ordered. “You’ve got their attention, now get up high and out of range.”
    A pool of sweat gathered around Nick’s ear where the phone had been fastened. He switched ears and wiped the damp one with his shoulder.
    Stevie and Nick watched the truck take the final turn too fast. They watched it almost tip over, coming up on two wheels before recovering and slamming back down on all four. The sweat continued to drip down the side of Nick’s face as the vehicle approached the spike strip lying across the road. 
    Stevie put his hand on his forehead as if waiting for a head-on collision between two passenger trains.
    “Lord, be with them,” Nick murmured, the tightness in his chest growing stronger.
    As the driver spotted the spike strip, he did what every criminal has ever done in that situation. He slammed on the accelerator. Something about the brain which creates the belief that a vehicle going fast enough can fly over the spikes with impunity.
    Nick’s lunch worked its way up his esophagus as the truck plowed over the spikes. A puff of dust emerged as the wheels scraped against the ground. The truck hobbled forward, leaning right and struggling ahead with a maniacal demand from the driver.
    Watching from the satellite gave the images a creepy feel. The absence of sound gave the scene more gravity.
    Julie was still holding Thomas to her chest when the gunman’s head next to her lurched back. A blotch of red instantly appeared on the back window. Julie and Thomas went down too. The driver must’ve heard the gunshot and immediately skidded the truck to a stop. Nick’s first thought was, he’s going to kill them. If they’re not already dead. There was no telling where the bullet came from and where it went after penetrating the gunman’s head.
    The gunman in the truck bed lay slumped, his head unnaturally drooped to his right.
    The driver jumped out of the truck and placed his hands on his head, turning in a circle, looking for the snipers. Nick didn’t trust him; he hoped Parker and Jenson didn’t either.
    Julie and Thomas were still down, with no sign of movement. Nick had his hand over his mouth, while Stevie craned his neck closer to the screen.
    Parker emerged from his nest, his rifle out in attack mode. He approached from the rear of the truck.
    On the wireless headset, Nick heard Parker say, “You got the driver, Bill?”
    From the opposite side of the road, and the front of the vehicle, Bill Jenson crept out of the woods, knees bent, rifle ready.
    “I’ve got him,” Jenson announced.
    It was over. But Julie and Thomas weren’t moving. Nick was paralyzed with fear. What had he done? Parker dropped his rifle and pulled himself over the tailgate.