The roaring Bentley whipped up gravel and dead leaves as it accelerated at a speed of 90 mph through the pavement between the orange maple, birch and aspen trees.
Rhett wore a grim, yet he was calm as he looked straight ahead at the empty street for any incoming cars.
Only through the right side of the convex mirror could he witness the black cars emerging larger, one after the other through the massive iron gate now a mile behind from the black Bentley.
He briefly glanced at Neva beside on the passenger's seat.
Her back stiffened and compressed against the seat.
"Grip on tighter Angel." Rhett said, pulling the revs up and up, and until the hand drifted to 150 mph mark.
Neva's body was now almost joined with the seat. Her breathing sharp and heavy.
A hand squeezing the edge of the beige colored leather seat. Rhett didn't even mind tying up her hands.
Didn't all kidnappers strap the captive up?
Glossy eyes saw through the interior rear–view mirror: the cars following them. Was Ishmael on one of them?
She closed her eyes, sharp inscisors cutting through her bottom lip; hoping for him to be safe, hoping for the twins to be safe.
And when she opened her eyes, they were already heading through the main–street. Cars, shops, people starting to appear more vivid.
When was the last time that she had gone out from Ishmael's estate? She couldn't remember. But it was a malediction to be out in the bustling world again as she so wished the night before, when now she was in a near–death situation.
Ishmael was right. He had only ever wished for goodness and secure upon her.
Her lips trembled; she wanted to be back home and into his arms.
What could she had done to be not in this situation? Maybe inside the safety of their locked house or bedroom?
How she wished to turn back time.
When she looked at the rear–view mirror again, she saw the cars behind almost dissapearing within the town.
Rhett had slowed down the car between sixty and seventy. He swivelled the steering wheel to the right and turned a corner into a narrow street with shops and low–rise apartments on both sides.
He smoothly, involuntarily avoided the cars and people on the pavement.
A bolt of firing bullet on the Bentley jolted Neva on her seat.
Particles of gravel and dust flung in the air as they missed the hit on the car. She could hear people screaming through the screeching engines and shriek of tyres.
Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. This noise felt too familiar. This haunting feeling rewakening.
Another firing from the Porsche behind.
The bullet missed by a hairs–breath. They were closening fast.
Rhett hauled the car through a void narrow bridge ahead instead of the other cross–streets with people around.
He didn't want to open fire and accidentally hurt people hovering round the town. Raka was ruthless, he wouldn't bait an eye killing a two or three innocents.
From the look of their firing which still continued with fault, they wanted to rupture the back tyres of the Bentley.
There was a good destination in his mind.
And he flung the car hurriedly towards it.
Ishmael propelled the Porsche to a one–hundred and sixty. He wanted to by–pass or atleast be linear alongside the Bentley.
The bullets barely managed to scratch the car. His face was bleak. Rage boiling in his chest.
His grip on the steering wheel hardened, his knuckles turning white.
He couldn't let a storm as small as Czar sweep Neva away from him again. Even if he still underestimated him, he wouldn't give in to a destiny of failure anymore.
He would completely end him there and then. Tightening his jaw, he pushed the revs up to two–hundred.
The cars behind slowing behind, while his left hand steadied the steering wheel, he took the gun placed on the passenger seat and aimed at the tyres again.
But the car disappeared into an alleyway.
He instinctively slowed the Porsche down.
The Bentley suddenly swivelled ahead of him and Ishmael widened his eyes, sharply hitting the brakes.
Rhett restrained the car with easy sway of body, a grip of a hand on the steering wheel, and along his head, he had the other arm out with the pistol.
A memory refilling.
And then he fired straight towards Ishmael's screeching Porsche.
The windshield shattered and Ishmael instantly ducked down. Sharp shards of glasses spluttering down on him.
Rhett fired and punctured one of his front wheels.
Neva screaming for him to stop...
Her cries fading into the background behind the grumbling cars nearing and his aim at the gas tank.
Once... Twice...
But the third one couldn't make it as Ishmael fired straight at Rhett.
Rhett's hand automatically reached to perch Neva below, shielding her body as the shattered glass of the windscreen rained down on them.
The furious bullets kept hammering down on the Bentley but Rhett quickly pirouetted the car still hunched down.
Then he raised his body and shot Raka, but missed. Without wasting another moment, he swiftly went around the street and turned through the alleyway.
The incoming cars ringing bullets on the Bentley.
.
.
.
Rhett reached an open ground. A buzzing helicopter flying grasses over the field.
Rhett immediately pressed the transparent ear piece in his ear.
"Ace cover for me." He raised his voice against the noises, heading as close possible to the helicopter.
Ace inside the helicopter was already waiting on the door with a machine gun in his grip, having sensed the close rumbles of the cars.
"Got it." Ace replied as the Bentley came to a halt.
The heavy machine–gun well adjusted in his hold. He squinted his eyes. Focused on the target. A Range Rover and Maserati in the fore. Their aims now shifted at the helicopter, clinking failure of bullets on the metal.
He opened fire in an automatic setting. Gold sparks flying with each thundering bullets ramming on the SUVs.
His bullets bursted the gas tanks and instantly exploded the Range Rover and Maserati.
The cars behind screeching to a halt.
The wheels dugging moist mud, creating deep trails.
A perfect hit.
The Agent had earned a famed recognition of being the best sniper in EIS.
While Ace hailed bullets on them, seizing the enemy's attack, Rhett carried Neva into the helicopter.
Two more cars exploded.
Booming noise... Cluttered soil... Stinking blood and burned bodies...
Smoke clouded the air. The cars retreated.
Ace scowled at them.
The helicopter had started heaving up steadily from the ground. And Ace still on the unclosed door attempted embers on them.
Bursting into flames. A deafening noise... Flipping a heavy, black Porsche. The smoke concealing his vision.