Warhol's Prophecy (36 page)

The other car followed, swung out into the road and kept pace about three yards behind, but slightly to his right.

Rob looked in the wing mirror, and saw that the vehicle was now driving down the centre of the road.

It suddenly swerved across and slammed again into the Audi, the clash so great it was all Rob could do to keep his own car under control.

There was another impact almost immediately and, this time, he felt the Audi skidding. He was careering towards the sodden grass and mud that flanked the road.

For terrifying seconds he thought he was going to lose control – hit the small ramp of earth and crash into the trees beyond. But he guided the car back onto the road, great geysers of mud spewing up from under churning tyres.

The darkness was lit momentarily by the cold white glow of lightning, and in that instant Rob saw the other car drawing up alongside him.

He glanced to his right, trying to see the driver, gesticulating madly at this fucking moron who seemed so intent on running him off the road.

But the rain and darkness hid the occupant and, despite its proximity, still also masked the make of vehicle.

They were coming to a corner.

The pursuing car veered sharply to the left, and caught the Audi broadside.

Both cars swerved on the waterlogged surface. Rob gripped the steering wheel furiously and twisted it.

‘Come on then, you prick,’ he bellowed, sending the Audi back across the road towards the other vehicle.

As they collided, the other car swung away slightly but, before Rob could enjoy his victory, it had crashed back into him so hard he felt something prod against his leg.

Looking down, he realized that his door had been dented so badly that part of the interior frame had come loose.

What the fuck was this bastard playing at?

Rob accelerated again, the needle on his speedometer touching sixty.

He knew this was too fast for safety in such treacherous conditions, but his only thought now was to escape this madman – whoever the fuck he was.

Another jarring collision.

The other car was level with him again, bumping into him almost continuously, nudging him towards the muddy verge.

Rob’s anger was mixed with fear now.

He had no idea what this bastard was doing, why he was doing it – and, more worryingly, how far he would persist in taking this dangerous game.

The Audi was battered yet again, and Rob could see now that the other car was moving ahead of him.

Trying to cut him off?

Rob hit his brakes, allowing the other driver to get in front of him. Then he accelerated. Out, and across into the other lane, so that Rob was on the outside now.

He was driving on the wrong side of a darkened road.

Perhaps if he could push the offending vehicle off the tarmac . . .

Just nudge it onto the verge.

Disable it long enough to escape from it . . . then he would phone the police and . . .

The entire car interior was filled with such blinding light that Rob actually raised a hand to shield his eyes.

The lightning now lit up the heavens with a savage explosion of whiteness.

But it was not lightning, Rob realized.

It was the headlights of a lorry.

And it was heading straight for him.

A
LL HE HEARD
was an incredible cacophony of sound.

The blaring of the lorry’s horn.

The squealing of tyres on wet tarmac.

The ever-present rumbling of the thunder.

It fused together to create one unholy eruption of noise that filled his head and drummed in his ears.

‘
No!
’ shouted Rob and wrenched the wheel to one side, desperate to get out of the lorry’s path.

But the other driver saw his predicament and slammed back into him, keeping him pinned in the right-hand lane. Keeping him in the path of the oncoming lorry.

Ploughing through the rain, the juggernaut hurtled down the road, sending up geysers of spray all around it. Its driver was gesturing wildly with one hand, trying to wave Rob out of his path.

Rob stared at the lorry. There were less than fifty yards between them.

He tried to draw back, to slip behind the other car, to get back across onto the correct side of the road.

But the other car dropped back too, shunting him again into the path of the oncoming juggernaut.

Forty yards now.

Rob wrenched the steering wheel to one side, and slammed again into his aggressor, but the car held firm and its driver sent it careening back into the Audi.

Thirty yards . . .

There was no way past.

Still stuck in the way of the speeding juggernaut, Rob glanced down at his speedo.

Forty miles an hour.

That was too fast. He would never avoid the lorry.

Twenty yards . . .

The distance between them was closing too fast. But the other car wouldn’t allow him to pull over. Wouldn’t allow him to get out of the way.

Fifteen yards . . .

One chance?

Rob drove his foot down hard on the accelerator, and the Audi roared straight towards the lorry, as if intent on ramming the massive vehicle.

The needle now touched fifty-five.

And, all the time, the juggernaut came nearer.

Ten yards . . .

Rob pressed down harder.

Sixty-five.

The lights almost blinded him.

He could now hear the roar of the lorry’s engine.

Seventy miles an hour.

The Audi sped past the car on the left, still screaming its way towards the lorry.

Five yards.

He spun the wheel suddenly.

There was barely enough space for the Audi to slip through. As he worked the wheel madly, Rob felt a tremendous crash shake the entire vehicle. He realized that the lorry had clipped his offside rear wing.

But he was through!

Again the Audi skidded on the wet road. He desperately fought to regain control, turning into the skid, and aware that there was now a thick hedge running alongside the road.

Aware that he was spinning straight towards it.

The pursuing car rammed him with incredible force.

As the Audi left the road, Rob gripped the steering wheel with one hand. The other he raised to protect his face.

As if fired from a catapult, the Audi hurtled off the tarmac and exploded through the hedge, carving its way effortlessly through the bracken and overgrown hawthorn.

Rob grunted as he felt a thud, his sternum connected hard with the steering column, and his seat-belt jerked him back, fresh pain shooting across his shoulders.

But the car had stopped.

‘Shit,’ he hissed, unbuckling his seat-belt.

He sat behind the wheel, heart hammering against his ribs, his breath coming in gasps.

Apart from his shoulders and his chest, there was no pain.

Even the Audi’s engine was still running.

He thought about switching it off, then turned in his seat to look back towards the road – through the gaping rent that the Audi had carved in the hedge.

The road seemed deserted.

The lorry was gone; so was the other car.

The only light came from flashes of lightning.

Rob stuck the Audi in reverse and manoeuvred back onto the roadside, but he remained inside the car, looking anxiously up and down the thoroughfare. As if expecting the mystery car to return at any minute.

The road remained empty.

Rob leant forward, resting his head on the wheel, his eyes closed tightly.

‘Jesus,’ he whispered breathlessly.

He had to get home.

Had to tell Hailey about the fucking maniac who’d tried to kill him.

Had to phone the police. Tell them someone had tried to murder him.

He tried his mobile once.
NO SIGNAL
.

Rob stuck the Audi in
DRIVE
and pulled away, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The storm continued to rage.

H
AILEY THOUGHT HOW
pale he looked.

Rob sat right on the edge of the chair, a tumbler of brandy cradled in his hands. Hair, plastered by the rain, sticking to his forehead.

Every now and then he would take a sip of the Courvoisier, gazing down into its depths as if seeking answers there.

Hailey perched on the arm of the chair beside him, gently massaging his shoulders.

He had blundered into the house less than fifteen minutes ago, eyes bulging, face set in hard lines. She had been thoroughly frightened by his appearance, especially when he brushed past her into the sitting room without speaking. His clothes were soaked with rain and perspiration. His skin was cold and waxy.

When he had finally managed to force out words, they were ones like ‘police’ and ‘murder’ and ‘maniac’. What he was saying made no sense. His sentences were garbled, like a message breaking up over radio waves.

Outside, the storm continued to rock the night, and not for the first time Hailey glanced upwards. The thunder had already woken Becky once that night, and it had taken a while to get her back to sleep. But at the moment Hailey’s main concern was for her husband, who just sat gazing blankly ahead. It was as if he was seeing something
beyond
the walls of the house. Something that she could not see herself.

‘He tried to kill me,’ Rob said finally, still staring ahead.

‘Who?’ Hailey wanted to know.

‘The fucking nutter who tried to run me off the road.’ He swallowed more brandy.

‘Did you get a look at him?’ she asked.

Rob shook his head.

‘What about the make of his car?’ Hailey enquired.

‘It was too dark, what with the rain and everything . . .’ He allowed the sentence to trail off.

‘Why would someone want to kill you, Rob?’

‘How the fuck would
I
know?’ he snapped, downing what was left in his glass and getting to his feet, swaying unsteadily.

Hailey took the glass from him and refilled it before handing it back to him.

‘All I know is that’s what happened,’ Rob said, slumping back down in his seat. ‘Some fucking maniac came out of nowhere and tried to run me off the road.’

‘It could have been a drunk driver you annoyed. Or some delinquent kids in a stolen car.’

‘Could have been.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Jesus, Hailey, you should have seen it happen. I thought I was going to die.’

She put both arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her.

‘I’ve got to call the police,’ he said, moving away slightly.

‘What’s the point?’

‘Are you serious? There’s some fucking lunatic out there on the road, pissed or drugged up, or both. He might decide to have a go at someone else, and
they
might not be as lucky as me.’

‘But, Rob, what can you tell them? You didn’t see the driver, so you can’t give them a description. You didn’t even see the
car.
’

He swallowed more brandy and got to his feet.

‘I’ve got to tell them,’ he insisted.

Hailey stood too, blocking his way to the phone.

‘No,’ she said flatly.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ he demanded.

‘Don’t call the police.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Why not?’ he wanted to know. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘I can handle it, Rob.’

‘
You
can handle it?’

‘I know who tried to kill you –
and
why.’

‘H
IS NAME IS
Adam Walker,’ Hailey said quietly.

Rob didn’t speak, merely looked at her aghast.

‘You remember, when Becky got lost over in the shopping centre that afternoon, I told you a man had found her and brought her back. It’s him.’

‘You’re not making any sense, Hailey. He saves my daughter, then tries to kill
me
? Why?’

‘It’s because of me. What happened tonight
and
what happened with your car. The slashed tyres, the dog shit pushed through the door: that was Walker too.’

Why not mention the break-in while you’re at it?

Rob waved a hand in the air.

‘What has he got against
you
?’ he wanted to know.

She lowered her gaze.