NOVEMBER 14, 2003
LINCOLN COUNTY, NEVADA
[I]
The night was pitch dark and chilling, with the only means of comfort being the tiny fireballs hanging from the heavens above. But of course, to expect any help from those orbs of light millions of miles away from earth would be like expecting a bunch of fireflies to light up the whole town….They were there just to add glitter to an otherwise mundane sky, nothing else; much like those tiny designer lights that are used to decorate a Christmas tree. Except from the rustling of leaves of trees on either side of Highway 47 and an occasional flutter of wings of some mysterious bird, nothing disturbed the eerie calm that had descended upon earth that night. Not even a soul was visible for miles. With the country facing its worst snowfall in recent years and temperatures dipping to record low levels, the only sane thing a human in his right frame of mind would do, is sit cozily near a fireplace with a beer in hand, and hum away the night with a soft melody from the 50’s.
The snow from the previous night had been plowed off the highway; the district administration had been particularly efficient in its bid to minimize road accidents because of a traction-less road surface. However, it was winter…the worst of the seasons in those parts and a nightmare for motorists. It had been snowing continuously for the past three days and none of the efforts of the administration was proving to be a clear winner. It seemed to be a constant struggle between nature and man for control…nature being the higher power and man being the proverbial stone-head who is used to having his way around everything. The previous week alone, Highway 47 had been witness to 5 road accidents…but owing to prompt emergency services, all the lives had been saved--a stellar performance by any standards for a place accustomed to having 20-30 deaths by road accidents alone.
But none of that mattered for the blue Corolla that was snaking through the highway at such breakneck speed that its engine rattled violently against its bonnet. One look at its front- all battered and bruised and the multiple bullet holes at its rear window, and it was easy to guess that it was not a party gone wild, all right. Close behind, a menacingly black BMW was in hot pursuit…a hand with a Heckler & Koch MP7 sticking out from one of the side windows, trying to take a clean shot at the occupants of the car in front. But every time the MP7 opened fire, the Corolla would swerve swiftly to its sides, only managing to avoid being hit.
“Jones, we don’t have all night to take out these people. If we don’t get ‘em, then HQ will…and you don’t want the Commander up your ass, do you?”…The man in the driver seat of the BMW pointed out to his partner.
“Well, maybe if you shut your damn pie hole and concentrate on getting around them, then we get ourselves a clear shot! And it’s not only my ass on the line, remember?” His partner remarked.
“You got it!” Saying this, he let the car roll in full throttle.
The Corolla, sensing what was coming next, made a desperate move. It drove off the highway and into the fields to its right. However, Jones was already onto his MP7. Two rounds, followed by a seething screech of brakes…the Corolla had just managed to avoid crashing onto the oak in the middle of the field. Smoke billowing out of its front, it sure looked like it had had enough that night.
The BMW stopped right behind. Jones and his partner alighted, guns in hand.
“Two years of searching and millions wasted…and here we have them, in this obscure field right next to HQ…damn sewer rats…living under our very nose.” Jones had a habit of being dramatic at critical moments.
“Check the car if anyone is still alive…destroy everything, including the package. HQ wants no evidence left behind.” His partner ordered.
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