Totally overmatched, and totally helpless. He half expected to receive a rocket-propelled suppository at any moment, but none came. He shot into the main street, tires squealing, and risked looking back for the helicopter, since his sense of hearing wasn’t the guide it should have been, ignoring the honks, shouts, and extended middle fingers of motorists not pleased with his driving etiquette and the burnt rubber he had deposited on the road. The aircraft was no longer behind him. Blake blew out a long breath, his heart still pounding away in his chest. He had hoped the men after him wouldn’t pull a stunt like attacking him on a crowded road in broad daylight. But given the resources of the group hunting him, he had an hour, at most, before they’d be able to divert a satellite from other duties to attend to him. He had to ditch the car, and every minute counted. “Myla,” he said to his PDA. “I need to know the largest parking structure within ten miles of here.” Seconds later his phone provided the answer to his question.
