Chapter 12 - The Iron Bridge
The red taillights of the toll plaza appeared through the mist, half a mile ahead. But the toll booths were not open.
Across all four lanes of the highway, concrete barriers had been pulled into place. Three black armored SUVs sat in a blockade formation, their headlights high-beamed directly down the road, blinding anyone who approached.
""Hold on to something, Lucas,"" Adam said calmly, reaching over to double-check the boy's seatbelt harness.
""Dad, what is that?"" Lucas asked, his voice trembling as he saw the wall of light.
""It’s just an obstacle. Close your eyes and cover your ears.""
Lucas immediately obeyed, tucking his chin into his chest and pressing his palms over his ears.
Adam didn't hit the brakes. He shifted the sedan into sport mode, feeling the transmission drop two gears. The engine roared, accelerating toward seventy, eighty, eighty-five miles per hour.
Above them, the helicopter banked hard, its spotlight illuminating the sedan’s hood in stark, blinding white. Men in black helmets emerged from behind the armored barricade on the bridge, raising assault rifles.
They won't shoot the car directly, Adam calculated with cold, tactical precision. Croft wants the boy intact. They’re aiming for the tires.
Two hundred yards out, Adam saw the weak point: the right-hand shoulder barrier wasn't concrete; it was a temporary chain-link fence shielding a construction trench that dropped ten feet onto an abandoned access road below.
At one hundred yards, sparks erupted across the pavement as warning fire stitched the asphalt.
Adam yanked the emergency brake and spun the steering wheel hard to the right. The sedan fish-tailed violently, the rear bumper clipping the construction barrier. Metal screamed against concrete. The car smashed through the chain-link fence, leaving the roadway entirely and plunging into the blackness of the ravine below.
The vehicle landed with a bone-jarring slam on the muddy access road, the suspension bottoming out with a shower of sparks. The airbags failed to deploy—a tactical modification Adam had noticed earlier—allowing him to keep his hands firmly on the wheel.
Mud splattered across the windshield as the tires gripped the gravel. Adam floored the gas, racing beneath the underpass of the bridge just as the helicopter’s searchlight swept the empty road above.
In the rearview mirror, he saw the searchlight frantically sweeping the riverbed. But they were already vanishing into the dense pine forests of the northern ridge.
Adam looked over. Lucas was still curled tightly, his eyes shut, his hands clamped over his ears.
""You can look now, buddy,"" Adam whispered gently. ""We’re through.""
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Lucas opened his eyes, looking back at the smoking bridge disappearing in the dark. ""Did you break them?""
""We slipped past them,"" Adam said. ""For now.""
