Double Take

past, massive enough to smash his Audi and kill both of them. He caught a glimpse of a woman’s white face, the terror in her eyes, before he took an insane fast left turn on John F. Kennedy Drive, nearly shearing off the front fender of a parked station wagon.
    There weren’t many cars in the park, thank God, but he had to slow some for a dozen or so bicyclists and a long tail of runners. He laid on the horn, giving them time to scatter, which they did. They jetted past the bison paddock, and took a fast right. It was a straight shot now. Julia eased up into her seat. She saw the Queen Wilhelmina Tulip Garden and the Dutch Windmill on her right, saw the looming red light, and managed to hold back a scream as Cheney drove straight through the light onto the Great Highway.

CHAPTER 38
    Horns blared, brakes screeched, and rubber burned as he swerved and dodged the two-way traffic.
    Cheney yelled, “Did I ever tell you I learned to drive in a four-by-four on the beach?”
    He was smiling as he ripped across the Great Highway onto the long concrete parking lot, thankfully empty of cars and people, just as he’d hoped. The parking lot ran along the storm wall that rose above the beach a good six feet. Julia saw the storm wall looming diagonally up in front of them. She didn’t consider the narrow openings for beach steps until—her heart nearly stopped when they went airborne.
    “I won’t kill us! Hang on!” Incredibly, he was laughing with something like joy as they flew, and, truth be told, she felt a tickle of joyous terror in the air herself.
    The Audi landed hard on sand, still damp from high tide, slamming them against their seat belts, snapping their jaws together. Cheney whipped the Audi hard left, and the car flew forward along the beach wall. “I used to race dune buggies on the beaches in South Carolina, mainly Hilton Head. Come on, you maniac, come on, you can get me. Hot damn, he just went flying through.” He hit the steering wheel with his fist and yelled, “Gotcha!”
    “What do you mean? You wanted him to come after you?”
    “Oh yeah. This sweet little Audi A4 has all-wheel drive. He doesn’t.”
    Julia looked back to see the Charger hit the beach hard some forty yards behind them, kicking up sand and water like a rooster tail. “He looks like he’s having a problem getting traction. No, wait, okay, he’s turning toward us. He’s coming, Cheney.”
    Cheney was grinning again. She wondered whether, if she weren’t in the car, he’d have flipped the Audi back around to face the oncoming Charger, maybe gunned the engine a couple of times in challenge, and headed straight at Makepeace like a knight in battle.
    But he couldn’t take the offense because he had to protect her. Another bullet struck, close to the back tire. In that instant Julia remembered her SIG was in her purse. Sweet Mary and Joseph, where was her purse?
    She didn’t have time to find it. Cheney gunned the Audi toward the long storm wall. She’d sat on that wall many times with her legs dangling, watching the waves and the honking seals. Now it seemed a terrifying monolith waiting to crush both of them. She saw another beach access in the concrete wall, a dozen concrete stairs climbing up. As they closed on it, the Audi never faltered, never lost its traction. It took the stairs like a bullet and sped through the opening. Julia could have licked the concrete wall on either side. She was pumped. She yelled out a shout of wild exultant terror.
    Cheney slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel at the same time. They screeched to a one-eighty. He threw the Audi into park, yelled for her to keep down, and jumped out the door hunched over, his SIG drawn.
    But she didn’t get down, no way would she hide now. She stared, fascinated, as the Charger tried to pull out of a lunatic slide and gain some traction and speed toward those stairs, spewing sand. She saw the instant Makepeace realized the Charger wouldn’t make it up the stairs. He threw the car into reverse, bumped hard and fast back down the concrete stairs and lurched back onto the beach.
    Cheney ran toward the wall, firing at him, emptying his clip. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out another clip, and fired again. The Charger’s windshield shattered, then the rear window, sending out shards of glass.
    Makepeace jumped from the Charger and crouched behind the driver’s side door, firing back short bursts. Cheney threw himself down behind the concrete