Page 3 of The Death
He was about to find out for himself.
The truck was already a quarter mile down the road, but the gunner had clearly spotted him and told the driver. The vehicle spun around and raced back.
It skidded to a stop just ten yards away. The truck’s occupants stared as if trying to size him up.
Dominic smiled and spoke English to the men. “What happened to this place? I was just here last week, and it didn’t look anything like this!”
The three men didn’t smile. It appeared that the driver was the only one who spoke English, as the other two immediately looked to him for a translation.
“Who are you?” the driver said in heavily accented English.
“Just passing through.” Dominic was still smiling. “Didn’t know I was passing through a war zone. Think you fellas could give me a ride?”
The driver translated for the other two, and all three men burst out laughing. Dominic laughed with them.
The passenger climbed out of the truck and pulled a large handgun from his shoulder holster.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Dominic raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, don’t give me a ride. No problem.”
The man leveled his gun at Dominic.
Dominic spoke a command under his breath, just loud enough to be picked up by his wristwatch: “Initiate.”
BOOM! An explosion blew the man apart. Pieces of him splattered across the truck’s windshield.
The driver and gunner screamed at each other as they reached for their own weapons.
“Initiate,” Dominic repeated softly.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! A series of explosions destroyed the pickup truck and its occupants, triggered by the command and motion sensors embedded in the ordnance pucks Dominic had littered on the road.
Uh-oh.
The gunner had survived the blast, perhaps partially shielded by the truck. Blood covered his head and face, but he still had enough strength to raise an automatic rifle and fire it.
Dominic dove behind the flaming wreckage of the pickup truck, where he found a handgun that had been pointed at him just moments earlier. When he picked up the gun, he realized a hand was still gripping it, completely detached from the rest of the assailant’s body. He tried to pry the fingers free, but they were locked in a death grip.
The man with the rifle jumped from around the burning wreckage and fired wildly. Dominic raised the detached hand and pressed the dead man’s finger over the trigger.
BLAM! BLAM!
Two bullets went into the man’s chest. The attacker fell to the ground, dead.
Dominic threw down the hand and glanced around. He didn’t see any other patrols, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more out there somewhere. He turned to see Rashid and the two children running toward him.
Dominic kicked the hand away so the kids wouldn’t see it and joined them at the roadside.
Rashid shook his head. “Interesting. I took a few pictures of that move of yours. It gives new meaning to the termhand job.”
“I’m glad you were entertained. Now let’s get these kids out of here. I need to get to my casino in Morocco right away.”
“Still feeling lucky, are we?”
“Really?” Dominic gave him a sardonic glance. “It’s not that. I need to talk to Hastings and get some information about this damn massacre.” He was already heading across the road. “Come on, let’s get moving down that ridge you were talking about…”
BOSTON SCHOOL OF THE ARTS
8:55 P.M.
