Shock Wave (1996) by Clive - Dirk Pitt 13 Cussler

Author:Clive - Dirk Pitt 13 Cussler [Cussler, Clive - Dirk Pitt 13]
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-12-20T02:01:52.843000+00:00

"Not brilliant, but clever," Pitt said, eyeing a late model Cadillac STS sedan parked by the side of the drive, just inside the main gate of the country club. Three dark figures were sitting in it, two in front, one in the rear seat. He watched in the rearview mirror as the Cadillac's headlights blinked on and it began following the Allard, keeping a respectable distance. "Are you under surveillance?"

"I was told I'd be closely watched, but I have yet to catch anyone at it."

"You're not very observant. We have a car following us now."

She clutched his arm tightly. "This looks like a fast car. Why don't you simply speed away from them?"

"Speed away from them?" he echoed. He glanced at her, seeing the excitement flashing in her eyes. `That's a Cadillac STS behind us, with a three-hundred-plus-horsepower engine that will hurl it upwards of 260 kilometers an hour. This old girl also has a Cadillac engine, with dual four-throat carburetors and an Iskenderian three-quarter cam."

"Which means nothing to me," she said flippantly.

"I'm making a point," he continued. "This was a very fast car forty-eight years ago. It's still fast, but it won't go over 210 kilometers an hour, and that's with a tailwind. The bottom line is that he's got us outclassed in horsepower and top speed."

"You must be able to do something to lose them."

"There is, but I'm not sure you're going to like it."

Pitt waited until he had climbed a sharp hill and dropped down the other side before he mashed the accelerator against its stop. Momentarily out of sight, he gained a precious five-second lead over the driver of the Cadillac. With a surge of power, the little red sports car abruptly leaped over the asphalt road. The trees lining the shoulder of the pavement, their leafless branches stretching over the road like skeletal latticework, became a mad blur under the twin headlight beams. The sensation was one of falling down a well.

Peering into the tiny rearview mirror perched on a small shaft mounted on the cowling, Pitt judged that he had gained a good 150 meters on the Cadillac before the driver crested the hill and realized his quarry had sprinted away. Pitt's total lead was now about a third of a kilometer. Allowing for the Cadillac's superior speed, Pitt estimated that he would be overtaken in another four or five minutes.

The road was straight and rural, running through a swanky region of Virginia just outside of Washington that was occupied by horse farms. Traffic was almost nonexistent this time of night, and Pitt had no trouble passing two slower cars. The Cadillac was pressing hard and gaining with every kilometer. Pitt's grip on the steering wheel was loose and relaxed. He felt no fear. The men in the pursuing car were not out to harm either him or Maeve. This was not a life-or-death struggle. What he did feel was exhilaration as the tach needle crept into the red, a nearly empty road stretched

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