The Project 05 - The Tesla Secret

let off three more rounds over her head. A third man doubled over and fell face down on the pavement. The fourth ran back behind the Suburban. Carter made out a driver hunched down behind the wheel and shot him.
    The B MW drove away, fast. The last man pulled the body of the driver from behind the wheel of the SUV. He climbed in and took off on smoking tires. Carter fired after him until the slide locked back on his pistol.
    For one or two seconds the Suburban kept going straight. Then it heeled right in a tilting, impossible turn and flipped over onto the driver's side. It slid along the pavement showering sparks and shedding pieces of metal, glass and chrome until it came to rest. With a loud thump, it burst into flame.
    The BMW was gone, out of sight.
    "Are you all right?" His words sounded flat and far away. His ears rang from the pistol shots.
    "What? Yes, I'm okay, I think." She sat up, brushed glass from her hair, and looked at him. "You're bleeding."
    The Suburban burned with fierce, red beauty. A black column of smoke rose into a sky scattered with clouds turning pink and gold from the lowering sun. He felt blood dripping on the side of his neck.
    He wanted to look in the rearview mirror but it was gone.
    On the highway, people were getting out of their cars. Holding the .45 high, Carter ejected the empty magazine and inserted a fresh one. He racked the slide.
    His door was blocked shut.
    "Can you open your door?"
    She pushed hard. It groaned open with a sound of bent metal. Selena got out. He slid across the seat and stood beside her.
    "Stay here." Smoke from the flaming Suburban swirled around him. It smelled of burning rubber and roasting flesh. Nick felt his mind try to pull him back to Afghanistan. He pushed the memory away.
    He walked toward the motionless figures on the ground, toe to heel, bent low, holding the .45 straight out in front with both hands. He nudged the first body with his foot. A pistol lay on the ground, a Beretta by the looks of it. He kicked it away.
    The thick steel and leather of the Mercedes and bad shooting had kept the nine millimeter rounds from penetrating far into the body of the car. Something with more punch , he thought, he'd be dead. Selena would be dead.
    Sightless Asian eyes stared up at him. Carter checked the others, one by one. His .45 hollow points had done a lot of damage. None of them were breathing. They all looked Asian. He figured the driver cooking in the SUV would turn out to be the same.
    He put the pistol in his shoulder holster and went back to where Selena stood by the car.
    "What did they want?" She was pale under her tan.
    "You. I don't think they expected trouble."
    She clasped her arms around herself. He wondered if she was about to faint. Then her face got tight and angry.
    "Goddamn it, this is America, not fucking Afghanistan! This isn't supposed to happen here. That was a new car. Look at it!"
    She surprised him, the language. He hadn't figured her for someone who would swear like that. He looked at the car.
    Her hundred and fifty thousand dollar Mercedes was totaled. The front end was buckled and listing to the right. The tires were spider webs of shredded metal and rubber. There was a long dented scrape along the driver's side. All the windows were gone. The ground around the car was littered with tiny fragments of broken glass. The beautiful paint job was pocked with bullet holes. Antifreeze and oil made a widening pool on the dirt.
    "Maybe the insurance will cover it," he said. "I'm going to make a call."
    She looked at him like he was crazy. She shook her head.
    A news helicopter circled overhead, getting pictures to feed the greed for violence on the evening news. Sirens wailed in the distance. Carter took out his phone and called the Director. She'd get them out of the clutches of the law a lot faster than explanations would.
    At least his headache was gone.