Sam Fisher- Highway Driving

  The Toyota heads for the expressway, known as Prince Edward Road, merges onto the eastbound side, and nearly collides with a truck carrying new cars. I follow him at seventy miles per hour, barely missing the truck as it swerves to get out of the way. Even though it’s after midnight, the expressway is crowded. This is going to take some concentration.

  “Frances, I can’t talk right now. I’ll get back to you later.”

  “Colonel Lambert wants a report. He says—”

  “Tell the colonel I’m in a situation here and—”

  Shit! Some jerk in a Volkswagen doing fifty miles an hour just pulled into the lane in front of me. I have to jerk the Altima’s steering wheel hard to the left to avoid hitting him, but that puts me in front of a BMW going faster than I am. The horn blares as the car slams into the back of my car. I accelerate to eighty-five and get away from him since he’s probably not too happy with me.

  “I heard that,” Coen says. “I can see you now on the GPS. Check back when you can. For God’s sake, be careful.”

  I play zigzag through the maze of automobiles as I attempt to catch up with the Toyota. He’s ahead nearly ten car lengths and is moving dangerously fast. I push the pedal to ninety, which is about the limit I dare to speed through the thick traffic.

  We go over a bridge and head east into San Po Kong, a suburb just north of the old airport. The highway forks up ahead—we can stay on this road, which bends to the southeast, or there’s an alternate route directly south onto the Kwun Tong Bypass. The Toyota elects the bypass and makes a jarring exit across two lanes. I lean on my horn and turn the wheel in pursuit. A taxicab nearly hits me but the driver slams on the brakes. His tires screech, the car swerves, and he smashes into the rail.

  Sorry about that, I say to myself.

  I’m on the new highway now and it’s even more crowded than the first. But the Toyota is now five car lengths ahead and I’m gaining on him. Unfortunately, we pass a police car. The cop turns on his lights and picks up speed behind me. I floor the accelerator and push the Altima to a hundred as I pass a couple of SUVs. Within seconds I’m running side by side with the Toyota. The driver looks at me, scowls, and then he points a pistol out his window. The bullets smash my passenger side, spraying broken glass over the front seat and me. Two can play at that game, so I draw the Five-seveN, aim it across the passenger seat, and squeeze the trigger. The Triad accelerates just enough so that my round smashes the driver’s side rear window, missing him completely.

  The cop behind us has apparently radioed for backup because another patrol car enters the expressway just past the Richland Gardens exit. I can’t be bothered with the police; I focus solely on catching my prey. The gloves are off now and no prisoners will be taken.

  I speed up to position my car parallel to the Toyota again and then I swerve to the left, ramming him. The Toyota screeches and scoots into the far left lane. Changing lanes to stay beside him, I take another shot at the driver. This time his back windshield shatters and I hit him in the shoulder, I think. The car skids into the rail, bounces off, and wavers perilously in front of me. The guy manages to gain control of the car and moves around a slow-moving bus. The damned thing is now between us, and the two police cars are right behind me. I attempt to pass the bus on the right but a van moves into the lane. My only option is to pass on the far left, a lane crowded with vehicles entering and exiting the expressway. I wait until I pass another taxi and then push the speedometer to the breaking point. The Altima speeds to a hundred and ten as I zoom alongside the bus and eventually overtake it. The problem is that the two police cars do the same thing. Alas, the bus driver doesn’t see them because they’re in his blind spot. He blasts his horn as he changes lanes behind me and the two police cars are forced against the rail. One of them smashes through it and dives off the expressway onto the streets below. The other one spins, overturns, and slides into the center of the expressway.

  I hear the sounds of car horns, crashing metal, and squealing tires. The pileup behind me involves at least twenty automobiles but I can’t let it bother me. My prey is making a move toward an exit and I must stay on top of him.

  The Toyota takes the ramp to Kowloon Bay and I follow him off the expressway. If he thinks he’s going to lose me in the crowded narrow streets of the city, he’s got another think coming. Traffic essentially halts to a standstill as soon as we’re at street level. There’s nowhere
for him to go. What a dumb move on his part. I’m right behind him and we’re sitting in a line of cars waiting for a red light to change. So what does he do? He gets out of the car and begins to run.

  Hell, it ain’t my Altima, so I get out and chase after him. More car horns blast annoyance as we maneuver through the traffic and onto a sidewalk. The Triad, who’s holding his wounded right shoulder, cuts around a corner and into a dark alley. When I get to the entrance I lower my goggles, flip on the night vision, spot him, crouch, and aim the Five-seveN. I squeeze the trigger and he goes down in a tumble.

- Operation Barracuda, Chapter 15