Signature Wounds (A Paul Grale Thriller #1)

Venuti cleared his throat. His tone changed.

“How far are you from Indian Wells?”

I glanced at my GPS.

“Fourteen point seven miles, but I can’t get there without getting to the Mercury exit and onto the northbound side.”

I looked ahead at the northbound lanes. Where I was, I could do a U-turn and be headed northbound. Up ahead the highway divided and had guardrail where it crossed above the Mercury exit. I reached for binoculars and Venuti asked, “Are you in that daylight testing area where you’re supposed to turn your headlights on?”

“Yeah, right at the edge of it, close to the Mercury off-ramp. The trucks are blocking the section that has guardrail. Put me on hold and call the highway patrol.”

Highway 95 runs through open desert and can be empty, but not this empty. Not at this time of day. I had yet to see a northbound vehicle.

“Ask the highway patrol if they’ve got a spotter plane in the area,” I said.

“Stay on the line. It’s going to take a few minutes.”

Venuti put me on hold, and I pulled onto the northbound side and drove slowly along the outside lane, ready to get onto the road shoulder should any northbound traffic appear coming at me. When Venuti came back on, I had a better view.

“They have a plane up, but it’s ten to fifteen minutes out,” Venuti said.

“That’s too long.”

“That’s what it is.”

“Hold on—”

“What?”

“Shooting. I just heard more gunfire.”

“What do you see?”

“Activity ahead of the second semi. I see people outside and it looks like they’re doing something, but I can’t tell yet. I don’t have a good enough view. We’d better alert our SWAT guys.”

“Whoa, we don’t know any—”

“Yeah, I can see more. Hang on.”

I accelerated and approached the Mercury overpass fast and dropped down the on-ramp headed the wrong way. Just as I dipped down, I saw a man on the overpass above with an assault rifle trying to line up on me.

I made a hard left turn onto the road to Mercury as bullets battered the trunk. My tires squealed as I swung back and forth on the two-lane road toward Mercury.

“What was that?” Venuti asked.

“That was somebody shooting at me. I’m on the Mercury Highway headed east but am going to cut south on a dirt track that I know is up ahead and try to circle back around. I saw one, maybe two, of the Strata drones on the highway pointed southbound. Call Creech and warn them. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong, but they’re not going to have much time.”

“Can you verify a drone is on the highway?”

“I just did.”

“Protect yourself. No unnecessary risks. I’m putting you on hold.”

What I remembered was a lone building out here, just before a government sign warning that no one was allowed beyond that point. Off to the right was a dirt track running south. I overran on the first pass then got on it without knowing how far south it went, but I wasn’t far from the highway and there were guns in the trunk. I could cut through the sage on foot.

Venuti came back on and asked, “Where are you?”

“I’m southbound on a dirt track paralleling the highway on the north side. I can see three drones and people assembling them. I count five people and a sniper lying on the roof of the forward truck. Shit, he’s turning to me.”

“Grale, protect yourself. That’s an order. Get out. Get down. Do not engage unless there’s no other way.”

The sniper would be shooting from behind at a hard cross angle, but he was good. Scared the shit out of me as the windshield took a hit. Big bullet. Loud. Then the back window was gone, glass fragments all over the interior. I slammed on the brakes as I neared a stand of brush and cactus. As best I could, I blocked his view of the car, popped the trunk, and rolled out as another bullet hit. That one punched the engine and steam boiled up. I stayed low, belly-crawled the hot dirt, and reached the trunk as the sniper put two rounds through the trunk lid.

In the trunk were a shotgun, rifle, and ammo. I had only my handgun otherwise. I lay quiet twenty or thirty seconds and could feel the sniper scanning for me. I rose where I didn’t think he had an angle and freed the rifle. I grabbed ammo and waited for the sniper to shift away from me. With my car stopped and a door open, he might swing away to another target. That could give me a window to cover fifty yards to a larger rock outcrop close to the road. I used my binoculars to watch and when he shifted, I scrambled and ran, though there’s no way to run fast in desert dirt and sand. He swung back and I dove and belly-crawled the last ten yards.

I was out of breath, heart hammering, as I edged forward and saw a drone with its wings on, and wings being bolted onto the one behind it. One, two, three drones being assembled, pointing south on the highway less than a quarter mile from me.

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