road.
“The object of this is for us to end up alive,” McClain said through clenched teeth when Clara finally had the van in the right lane again. “The KGB doesn’t want us dead atthis point, remember They want to take us alive so they can find out if I’ve told anyone what I know. Just keep calm, and try not to run off the road. Wrecking the van is the worst thing we can do.”
“Keep calm!” Clara wanted to laugh hysterically, but she was too busy trying to get away from the swooping helicopter. It dove in front of the van, its runners nearly touching the pavement. Clara stood on the brakes, then at a shout from McClain tromped on the accelerator again and headed straight toward it through a hail of gunfire.
For a moment it looked as though the copter and the van would collide. Clara shut her eyes and kept the gas pedal pressed to the floor. There was a curse from McClain, a whooshing sound, and then she opened her eyes to find that they were safe under more overhanging trees. At the last minute, the helicopter had lifted out of the way.
“Do me a favor,” he said, sounding as though his calm tone was costing him an effort. “Next time we play chicken, keep your eyes open, will you?”
Then they were out in the open again, briefly, so that the helicopter only had time to swoop once before the van shot under the protection of more trees. This time there seemed to be a lot of them. Clara felt some of the tension ease from her body. They were safe for the next couple of minutes, at least.
As far as she could tell through the enveloping darkness, the road wound up the side of a wooded hill. It was a two-lane blacktop. She only hoped that they didn’t meet anything coming the other way.
“Cut the lights.”
McClain sounded tense, but in control. Clara looked at him. Surely he didn’t expect her to drive this unfamiliar narrow country road in pitch darkness? His expression wasunreadable, but his green eyes glittered as they met hers. He looked vibrantly alive, she thought. With a sense of shock she realized he was enjoying this! The knowledge scared her even more than she had been.
“Did you hear me? I said cut the lights!”
There was an edge to his voice this time. She thought, this is a dangerous man.
Then, on the verge of an acute attack of hysteria, she doused the lights. Immediately the darkness enshrouded them. Clara could no longer see the road. Instinctively she hit the brakes. The van slowed its precipitous rush with a squeal and a sideways skid. By the time it straightened out, she was—just barely—able to see the road again. Keeping the van at a crawl, she cast a quick, shaken look at him.
“Who are you anyway—James Bond?”
Despite the bravado she tried to inject into it, the question had a squeaky note. He looked over at her, unsmiling. Funny, she was getting to know him better than she wanted to. She was able to recognize that unrelenting look. It was the one he had worn the night before in the tobacco field. When he had held the gun to her head.
“Something like that.”
“You’re telling me you’re a spy?” Her voice rose two octaves on the last word. James Bond existed only in the movies. Even real life spies—and she knew that they existed—she read the newspapers, but not in Virginia, for God’s sake!—were sort of glorified gossipmongers and pencil pushers. All that James Bond stuff was so much fiction. She knew that. Didn’t she?
“Agent.”
“Oh my God.” That seemed to be all she could say. Driving along the dark, twisty road with a man who scared the daylights out of her when she thought about it, prayingthat the overhead branches would shield them from the helicopter, Clara felt she was caught up in a nightmare. Real life wasn’t like this. At least, not in Virginia.
“Look, suppose I get out here and let you go on by yourself? I really don’t want to be involved in this.”
His eyes gleamed catlike through the darkness as he looked at her.
“You
“The object of this is for us to end up alive,” McClain said through clenched teeth when Clara finally had the van in the right lane again. “The KGB doesn’t want us dead atthis point, remember They want to take us alive so they can find out if I’ve told anyone what I know. Just keep calm, and try not to run off the road. Wrecking the van is the worst thing we can do.”
“Keep calm!” Clara wanted to laugh hysterically, but she was too busy trying to get away from the swooping helicopter. It dove in front of the van, its runners nearly touching the pavement. Clara stood on the brakes, then at a shout from McClain tromped on the accelerator again and headed straight toward it through a hail of gunfire.
For a moment it looked as though the copter and the van would collide. Clara shut her eyes and kept the gas pedal pressed to the floor. There was a curse from McClain, a whooshing sound, and then she opened her eyes to find that they were safe under more overhanging trees. At the last minute, the helicopter had lifted out of the way.
“Do me a favor,” he said, sounding as though his calm tone was costing him an effort. “Next time we play chicken, keep your eyes open, will you?”
Then they were out in the open again, briefly, so that the helicopter only had time to swoop once before the van shot under the protection of more trees. This time there seemed to be a lot of them. Clara felt some of the tension ease from her body. They were safe for the next couple of minutes, at least.
As far as she could tell through the enveloping darkness, the road wound up the side of a wooded hill. It was a two-lane blacktop. She only hoped that they didn’t meet anything coming the other way.
“Cut the lights.”
McClain sounded tense, but in control. Clara looked at him. Surely he didn’t expect her to drive this unfamiliar narrow country road in pitch darkness? His expression wasunreadable, but his green eyes glittered as they met hers. He looked vibrantly alive, she thought. With a sense of shock she realized he was enjoying this! The knowledge scared her even more than she had been.
“Did you hear me? I said cut the lights!”
There was an edge to his voice this time. She thought, this is a dangerous man.
Then, on the verge of an acute attack of hysteria, she doused the lights. Immediately the darkness enshrouded them. Clara could no longer see the road. Instinctively she hit the brakes. The van slowed its precipitous rush with a squeal and a sideways skid. By the time it straightened out, she was—just barely—able to see the road again. Keeping the van at a crawl, she cast a quick, shaken look at him.
“Who are you anyway—James Bond?”
Despite the bravado she tried to inject into it, the question had a squeaky note. He looked over at her, unsmiling. Funny, she was getting to know him better than she wanted to. She was able to recognize that unrelenting look. It was the one he had worn the night before in the tobacco field. When he had held the gun to her head.
“Something like that.”
“You’re telling me you’re a spy?” Her voice rose two octaves on the last word. James Bond existed only in the movies. Even real life spies—and she knew that they existed—she read the newspapers, but not in Virginia, for God’s sake!—were sort of glorified gossipmongers and pencil pushers. All that James Bond stuff was so much fiction. She knew that. Didn’t she?
“Agent.”
“Oh my God.” That seemed to be all she could say. Driving along the dark, twisty road with a man who scared the daylights out of her when she thought about it, prayingthat the overhead branches would shield them from the helicopter, Clara felt she was caught up in a nightmare. Real life wasn’t like this. At least, not in Virginia.
“Look, suppose I get out here and let you go on by yourself? I really don’t want to be involved in this.”
His eyes gleamed catlike through the darkness as he looked at her.
“You
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