Counterpoint



 

 

 

Counterpoint





John Day

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.

http://johnday.webplus.net/

 

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright © 2014 John Day

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords ISBN: 9781311166395

Chapter - The start of it all.

It was early morning in Caserta, just north of Naples. The air was fresh and still, the sun already warming the air, and casting a green light through the tall trees, around the clearing.

Just out of sight of a small side road, the tension was mounting; the exchange of drugs and €2,000,000 was under way.

Tim had already cocked the machine pistol before he left his car, now he glided silently out from behind the buyers van. He had circled behind the group of six young men, three of his and three of the buyers. Before they saw him, he opened fire, scything through the six of them before they could shoot back.

Snapping out the used clip and fitting a full one, he studied the crumpled bodies.

No one moved.

Without glancing up, he raised his free hand and beckoned to the red Fiat approaching him, 100 metres away. Carla, a pretty, 26 year old blond, floored the accelerator and the car darted towards Tim, tyres squealing and smoking as they clawed the tarmac. Seconds later, it skidded to a halt; Carla opened the driver’s door and popped the boot lid. Tim tossed the canvas bags of heroin and money into the boot, and slammed the lid shut.

As he ran to the open driver’s door, Carla slid over into the passenger seat. A shot rang out; a bullet starred the windscreen, and penetrated just above the steering wheel.

“Ah!” She screamed.

If she had not moved when she did, the bullet would have smashed into the base of her throat. The bullet passed out through the door opening, as Tim ran into it. He was gut shot.

The sledgehammer impact of the bullet, was not enough to overcome Tim’s onward rush, to get into the car. He doubled up and fell in. Carla pulled him in towards her, and eased him upright in his seat. Stunned at the sight of the blood, oozing from between his fingers as he clasped the wound, she suddenly realized what had happened.

Another two shots rang out; both hit the bodywork.

Tim let out a cry of rage; grabbing the steering wheel with one hand and gear lever in the other. Revving hard, the car shot forward towards the gunman.

Mortally wounded, one of the six men had recovered enough, to take revenge for the double cross, and fired at the driver’s position, in the hope of a hit.

The accelerating car hit the bodies with a violent lurch; the frantically scrabbling tyres clawed and tore at clothing and flesh. Tim enjoyed the bumping, slithering crunching sound as the car tore into and over the corpses.

The gunman had tried to get up, and out of the way of the car, but it hit him full in the face, throwing him backward and under the car.

Carla braced herself until the ride smoothed out, and looked tensely at Tim. How long could he control the speeding car, and how could she help him?

Tim’s face was fixed in a wild grimace; staring ahead, he was unaware of anything thing except escape. He had lost all reason, and was heading on a road, leading to town, instead of into the mountains, as planned.

A hidden police car waiting for early morning speeders lurched into motion. Tim’s Fiat took a tight right hand bend, tyres squealing in a barely controlled four-wheeled drift, in front of it.

Carla had just noticed the police car and shouted a warning to Tim. He did not hear her. He was starting to go into shock now, and was losing consciousness. The Fiat swerved from one side of the road to the other. In Tim’s hands, a crash was only seconds away, and arrest would certainly follow.

Carla grabbed the steering wheel and regained directional control; however, the car was still accelerating. Tim slumped against the door in a faint, his foot pressed hard on the accelerator. Carla reached for the ignition switch on the side of the steering column, and turned it off. Immediately the Fiat lost speed.

Steering with one hand, she reached across and opened the driver’s door slightly. The air tearing past the door prevented it from fully opening. Carla knew she had to push Tim out, somehow. It had to be when the car was taking a sharp bend, and centrifugal force would help throw him out.

Regulating the road speed by switching the ignition on and off, and steering with the other hand, Carla could only wait for the right moment. The police car was gaining ground rapidly, so time was running out, fast!

Carla approached a large roundabout at the edge of town; it was just what she needed. She deliberately took the roundabout in the wrong direction, drifting across into the oncoming lane.