Scarecrow: A Shane Schofield Thriller by Matthew Reilly

Author:Matthew Reilly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thrillers, General, Action & Adventure, Fiction
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2010-04-01T04:34:39+00:00

Sure enough, the two semi-trailer rigs arrived at the junction of the airstrip road and the Great Ocean Road and promptly turned sideways, skidding to simultaneous halts, splaying their combined bulk across the road.

Blocking it completely.

“Mother,” Schofield said into his radio. “We have to go. Please get here as soon as you can.”

The WRX whipped along the winding cliff-side road, rapidly approaching the two semi-trailer rigs.

Then, two hundred yards short of the road block, Schofield hit the brakes and the WRX squealed to a stop in the middle of the road.

A stand-off.

Two rigs. One rally car.

Schofield checked his rear-view mirror—the gang of five ExSol supercars was shooting along the Ocean Road behind him.

Beyond the ExSol cars loomed the giant stone castle, dark and somber, before suddenly two helicopters dropped in front of the fortress, blasting through the air in pursuit as well.

Zamanov’s two Skorpion Mi-34 choppers.

“Between a rock and a hard place,” Schofield said.

“A very hard place,” Gant said.

Schofield whirled back to face the road in front of him.

His eyes swept the scene—two rigs, the Axon helicopter, sheer rock wall to the right, 400-foot drop to the left, protected by a low concrete fence.

The fence, he thought.

“Pursuit cars are almost on us…” Gant warned.

But Schofield was still gazing at the concrete guard-rail fence. The Axon chopper hovered just out from it, almost at road level.

“We can do that,” he said aloud, his eyes narrowing.

“Do what?” Gant turned, alarmed.

“Hang on.”

Schofield slammed his foot down on the gas pedal.

The WRX roared off the mark, racing toward the rigs.

The rally car picked up speed fast, all four of its wheels giving power, its turbocharger screaming—tzzzzzzzzz!

60 kilometers an hour became 80…100…

120…

The WRX rushed toward the road block.

The two drivers of the rigs—ExSol men who had been waiting up at the airfield—swapped looks. What was this guy doing?

And then, very suddenly, Schofield cut left…bringing the rally car close to the concrete guard-rail fence.

Screeeeeeech!

The WRX hit the fence, its left-side wheels scraping against the concrete barrier, pressing against it, pinching against it, causing the whole left-hand side of the car to lift a little off the road…

…before abruptly—ka-whump!—the WRX mounted the fence!

Its left-hand wheels lifted clear off the asphalt, now riding along the top of the fence, so that the car was traveling at a 45-degree angle.

Schofield and Gant’s world tilted sideways.

“There’s still not enough room!” Gant yelled, pointing at the rig parked closest to the fence.

She was right.

“I’m not done yet!” Schofield yelled.

And with that he yanked the steering wheel hard to the right.

The response was instantaneous.

The WRX lurched sideways, its front half going right, its tail section going left—swinging dangerously out toward the ocean until finally its tail section slid…

…off the edge of the concrete guard-rail.

The WRX’s rear wheels now hung 400 feet above the ocean!

But the rally car was still moving fast, still skidding wildly forward, its underside sliding along the top of the guard-rail fence—its front tires hanging over the landward side of the fence, its rear wheels hanging above the ocean—so that now none of its wheels was touching the ground.

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