Pegasus Down: A Donovan Nash Thriller (Donovan Nash Thrillers) by Donlay Philip

Author:Donlay, Philip [Donlay, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Oceanview Publishing
Published: 2016-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LAUREN, WEARING A bulletproof vest, sat in the back of a police car, her hands cuffed behind her. The motorcade whisking her toward the center of town consisted of three squad cars and two motorcycles. Off to her right, she spotted a small blue-and-white helicopter with Police painted on the side. The entire time she’d been in the cell, she’d asked for the American Embassy, explaining over and over that she was the victim of a robbery, that she’d been thrown from a bridge in the dark. The only comfort was the fact that she’d been given water, a hardboiled egg, and some cheese. It was the first food she’d had in nearly twenty-four hours.

They sped down the thoroughfare, three lanes in each direction. She had no idea where they were, but sensed they were headed south. They passed cement-gray apartment buildings, leftovers from Stalin-era construction. A cemetery flashed past, as did more modern office buildings. En route, drivers had been forced to pull over, turning to look as the procession sped past. The road made a curve to the left, and Lauren caught sight of the half-mile wide Danube, a sliver of an island and a marina to her left, a larger island to her right. Ahead, she could see two modern office buildings, easily fifteen stories tall, straddling each side of the bridge.

Lauren looked up as the police chopper once again flew overhead. An instant later the helicopter transformed into an orange ball of fire, rotor blades and burning debris tumbling uselessly in the sky as the burning aircraft began a sickening corkscrew descent into the river below. Lauren flinched as the shock wave from the explosion enveloped the convoy. She spotted the smoke trail from a missile diffusing and fragmenting in the sky.

The driver slammed on the brakes, and Lauren was thrown forward. She hunched her shoulder and tried to get low as the sound of automatic weapons filled the air. Ahead, through the steel mesh partition, she saw the lead car raked with gunfire. Then it burst into flames. None of the doors ever opened. Behind her, policemen leapt from the vehicle and began shooting. Lauren looked to where they were aiming and she caught sight of two speeding white BMW X5s. A man’s torso protruded from the sunroof of the lead car, the missile launcher on his shoulder erupted, and the police car behind her exploded.

The side window of the police car exploded inward and Lauren sank as low as she could in her seat as the officer on the passenger side slouched forward, his chin resting on his chest. With the next burst of automatic weapons fire, the windshield dissolved into tiny fragments that bounced wildly, showering Lauren with pieces of glass. The lead BMW ground to a halt, and a man jumped to the road. Leading with an automatic weapon, he came straight for her. As he neared, she recognized him—the sharp features, dark eyes, and now he wore a heavy gauze bandage taped to his cheek.

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