Authors: Basil Sands
The
smaller
car
quickly
stretched
the
space
between
them
as
Kharzai
rocketed
down
the
Glenn
Highway
toward
Eagle
River.
Marcus
followed
as
fast
as
his
truck
would
take
him.
His engine
was
powerful
truck
and
capable
of
high
speeds,
but
the massive beast
took
time
to
get
there.
By
the
time
Marcus
reached
eighty
miles
per
hour,
the
Audi
was
a
white
speck
more than
a
mile
ahead.
Marcus
kept
the pedal to the floor
until the speedometer peaked at
110
mph
.
T
he
Audi
bound
ed
out
of
sight
around
a
long
bend
in
the
highway.
“
Where
are
the
cops?
”
Mike
asked
.
“
Probably
all
busy
back
at
the
park,
”
Marcus
said.
Marcus
was
surprised
when
he
rounded
a
bend
and
saw
the
Audi
still
within sight.
He
knew t
he
car
was
capable
of
nearly
200
mph,
yet
he remained in
sight as
if
Kharzai
wanted
the
chase
to
continue,
wanted
Marcus
to
catch
up.
More than a mile ahead
the
Audi
veered onto the ramp that
turn
ed
right
onto
the
Arctic
Valley
Road
exit.
Marcus
followed
and
turned
just
in
time
to
see
the
white
car
accelerate
past
the
Moose
Run
Military
Golf
Course
,
then
turn
onto
Ski
Bowl
Road.
“
What
’s
he
doing?
”
Marcus
squinted as he watched Kharzai disappear around a bend in the road
.
“
What
’
s
back
here?
”
Mike
asked
.
“
Nothing,
”
Marcus
replied.
“
J
ust
a
ski
lodge
that
’
s
closed
for
the
summer.
Beyond
that
,
there
’
s
a
military
radar
site
manned
by
about
a
hundred
armed
and
highly
security
-
conscious
soldiers
who
don
’
t
play
nice
with
people
who
show
up
uninvited.
There
is
no
exit
from
this
area other than the trails of the Chugach National Forest, which can only be taken on foot.
”
The
Chugach
National
Forest consist
s
of
thousands
of
square
miles
of
trees,
mountains
,
and
lakes.
Marcus
was
confused.
Unless Kharzai had a helicopter waiting to whisk him away to some safe haven, there was nothing back here but bear infested wilderness.
Ahead
,
the
Audi
accelerated
continuously
up
the
mountain
road,
veering
in
and
out
of
sight
several
hundred
yards
ahead
,
Kharzai
whipping violently into
hairpin
turns
like
a
Formula
One
racer.
Marcus
turned
a
blind
bend
on
a
steep
stretch
of
road
and
his
breath
caught
in
his
chest.
He
braked
hard,
skidd
ed along the dirt and gravel
and
barely
avoiding
the
Audi
which
sat
still
in
the
middle
of
the
road.
Once he got the truck under control
Marcus
pulled
as
close
to
the
soft
shoulder
as
he
dared.
Mike
got
out,
Marcus
right
after,
both
with
guns
drawn,
eyes
scanning
the
car and the nearby
brush.
The Audi’s
driver's
side
door
hung
open,
keys
on
the
seat.
Ahead
of
the
car
,
crushed
and
trampled
foliage
signaled
Kharzai's
entry
point
as
plain
as
a
sign
post.
Marcus
moved,
pistol
up
,
pointing
into
the
space
between
thickets
of
alder.
Mike
covered
him,
watching
for
shadows
of
movement,
listening.
It
was
too
easy
.
Kharzai
had
left
clear
tracks
in
the
underbrush.