Free The Stolen Da Vinci Manuscripts by Joshua Elliot James Page A

people after me so a showdown isn’t realistic and I
have witnessed that they have no scruples in killing.
    My options are to carry on and outrun them,
make a u-turn and go back to the original route or… go back to
Madrid airport and take a flight from there – tempting, especially
as it would be totally unexpected. I kind of like that idea. I take
a side street and kill the engine while I think about it more. The
only drawback I can think of is running into the Policia back at
the murder scene which is a distinct possibility and I don’t know
if the cop radioed in my vehicle description when he stopped me. I
think it’s worth the risk.
    The chase group comes into view and slows
down to look up and down side streets, but hurry on when they don’t
see me. I back out of the driveway and wait a few minutes before
venturing back onto the highway.
    I am surprised not to see the crime scene
buzzing with Policia and I slow down to look around. The cop is
sitting up against the rear wheel of his car with blood oozing from
his mouth and he is breathing shallowly. The handgun droops from
numb fingers and his eyes focus on me.
    “I tried to tell you…” I say.
    He coughs.
    I look around for help but there is no other
sign of life.
    I hear two shots and spin around.
    He has shot out two of the Jag’s tires and
has collapsed flat on the dirt.
    There is no pulse. I’m screwed. As wonderful
as my car is, I’m sure it only has one spare tire.
    I only have one alternative – I pull the
officer’s body and rest it against the Jag wheel where it will be
seen by a passer by and load my luggage into the police car, which
is a VW Passat. It’s pretty quick and has three quarters of a tank
of gas so I will be able to reach Madrid quickly. By pushing
various buttons I find the ones for siren and roof lights and will
use them if the need arises, but for now I wish to be
inconspicuous. The radio crackles to life and a female voice
addresses what I’m guessing is this vehicle – I am reasonably
fluent in the Spanish language but I can only pick out a few words
of this dialect.
    “Responde!” There is an urgency to the demand
that presses me to pick up the microphone.
    “Do you speak English?” I ask.
    There is a delay and a male voice answers.
“This is Sergeant Sergio Aviles – why are you using our radio?”
    “The officer who drives this car has been
shot and killed by someone in a Silver BMW presently heading north
on Rio Del Sera Road there is a second car – a Renault with him.
They are north of the town of Aronde del Duero. The officer is on
the same road beside a silver Jaguar XJS nine miles after the
mountain turn off. I am sorry.”
    “Is that where you are?”
    “No I have to get to the airport.”
    “You are driving the Policia car?” He sounds
very angry.
    “Yes.”
    “You will pull over immediately and wait for
my officers to reach you.” He demands.
    “Sorry, I cannot do that.”
    “Why?”
    “The men in those two cars are chasing me –
they will kill me if they find me. I tried to warn the officer but
he wouldn’t listen.”
    “You will pull over!” He yells. “Now!”
    I keep driving and turn the radio off.
Flashing red and blue lights coming from the opposite direction
warn me in plenty of time to pull behind a barn and out of sight.
When I can no longer hear the sirens I resume my trip.
    It was the unmarked detective car that got me
a mile later. The driver slammed the brakes and did a one eighty
that would make a Hollywood stunt driver proud. A dash top flashing
light flickers in my rear view mirror as he begins the pursuit and
he catches up quickly – oh for my XJS now. He tries to pull
alongside but I swerve the width of the road to prevent it and we
force oncoming drivers to veer off the road to avoid collisions,
but I cannot let him perform the ‘nudge’ maneuver and spin me out.
We speed onward and now I turn my sirens and roof lights on to warn
others. There is no shaking this guy off