Free CIA Fall Guy by Phyllis Zimbler Miller Page A

could get out.
    "Buckle your safety belt," he said.
    She glared at him. “Nothing better happen to this car — it's charged to my credit card.”
    “That was your first mistake.”
    Shit, shit, shit.
    **
    David turned the car into a cart track overhung with oak trees. They were only a couple of miles from the plane.
    He glanced over at the woman slumped against the passenger window, asleep or pretending to be.
    It had been a lucky hunch when, looking for her car, he had turned off at the faded road exit sign announcing “last gas for 30 miles.” He knew her tank had to be low; he suspected that warning would have rattled her. The tail had sailed right by the exit.
    He'd chatted up the gas station attendant. David had asked if he had just missed his wife, who was driving their other car to their new home on Cape Cod. “Yeah,” the guy had said, “but I think she went down the road to get a bite to eat.”
    David had followed the man's outstretched arm.
    Ahead down the road he could see no Jeep in front of the restaurant. What there had been were swerving tire tracks a half block before the restaurant, tracks that led right off the road and didn't reappear.
    He'd followed in his rental car, which didn't take kindly to the terrain, but the Company would pay the damage charges.
    After a short distance the car refused to budge another inch. He'd abandoned it and walked along the Jeep's trail. Luckily she hadn't driven much further before stopping.
    “Wake up, we're here,” he said now, turning the engine off.
    The woman jerked awake. “There's not even a terminal.”
    “This is what's called a stripped-down runway. Just enough length to take off in a hurry.”
    David tossed her backpack at her. She followed him out of the Jeep.
    “What do we do with this car?” she said.
    “Someone will get it and return it to the rental agency.”
    “Remember to have the tank filled.”
    David motioned her towards the waiting plane. “You're unbelievable. Now move quickly. We're vulnerable.”
    “Vulnerable to what?”
    David didn't bother to answer, simply leading the way to the plane's door. Beth was behind him, but suddenly she switched directions and ran back towards her car. Shit! She still hadn't learned she couldn't get away from him.
    He turned to go back for her. Shots whistled past his ears.
    “Get down, get down!” He raced towards the car, dragging her down with him, using the car as a shield. He yanked his gun from a waist holster and returned fire.
    The shots were coming from the periphery, he thought, probably only one shooter. The shooter was far away but with rather good aim, keeping them down but not shooting to kill.
    David chanced jumping up for an instant and waved the plane towards them, then ducked down again.
    The plane taxied towards them with the cargo bay door open. David, crouched over Beth, leaned down and said in her ear, “On the count of three, jump into the plane.”
    “Are you crazy?”
    “You want to stay here and get killed?”
    “This is all your fault. I was doing fine before you ...”
    David stood, yanked her up, and said, “1, 2, 3 — jump!”
    They jumped together into the plane. The woman collapsed on the floor while David slammed the door and holstered his gun.
    He yanked her off the floor and pushed her down into a jump seat. “Buckle your seat belt.”
    “Are you nuts? We were just almost killed and you're worried about wearing our seat belts on takeoff.”
    David leaned over and snapped her belt closed. “Listen, you idiot, we wouldn't have almost gotten killed if you hadn't tried to play hide-and-seek. What the hell is the matter with you?”
    “I don't trust you. Why should I? You turned up in the middle of nowhere and attacked me.”
    “I didn't attack you. You attacked me. And trust is not an issue here. Survival is.”
    Her face flushed, accentuating her brown eyes. “Yeah, sure. Which of your good ‘friends’ was shooting at us? I can understand that they find