Chapter 12: The Intersection
Arthur scrambled under the partially opened garage door, bursting out into the cool evening air. The Oakhaven complex was bathed in the dim, purple light of dusk.
Fifty yards away, the black Mercedes sedan was accelerating down the gravel alleyway, kicking up a massive cloud of dust. Aris was heading for the main gate.
Arthur sprinted toward his own SUV parked down the block, ignoring the agonizing pain in his head. His keys were still in his pocket. He threw himself into the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life with a twist of his wrist. He slammed the gearshift into drive and floored the accelerator.
The SUV fishtailed on the loose gravel before catching traction, rocketing down the alleyway in pursuit of the Mercedes.
Aris was fast, but he was driving a luxury sedan on broken, pothole-riddled industrial roads. Arthur’s SUV swallowed the terrain effortlessly. He closed the gap just as Aris reached the main gate of the storage facility.
Aris didn't stop to unlock it. He rammed the heavy iron gates with the front bumper of the Mercedes. The metal groaned and gave way, but the impact shattered the sedan's headlights and crumpled its hood. The Mercedes swerved wildly out onto the main access road, dragging a piece of chain-link fence beneath its chassis.
Arthur stayed right on his bumper. He grabbed his phone from the passenger seat—thankfully unbroken when it fell earlier—and hit redial on Detective Miller’s number.
"Pendleton! Where the hell are you?" Miller’s voice barked over the Bluetooth speakers.
"Oakhaven Industrial Park! Heading south on River Road!" Arthur yelled, gripping the steering wheel. "I have Aris! He's in a black Mercedes, plate number—"
"We know, we have his plates flagged!" Miller interrupted. "Stay back, Arthur! We have units two miles from your location. Do not engage him, he's desperate!"
"He has the evidence in his car, Miller! The Thallium, the ledgers, all of it! If he gets to his plane, he's gone!"
Up ahead, the access road approached a narrow bridge crossing the river. Aris pushed the damaged Mercedes faster, weaving erratically.
Suddenly, a blinding wall of red and blue strobing lights erupted from the opposite side of the bridge. Three police cruisers had formed a blockade, cutting off Aris's escape route entirely.
Aris slammed on his brakes, the tires screaming in protest, sending up a thick cloud of white smoke. The Mercedes skidded to a halt mere feet from the police barricade.
Realizing he was trapped, Aris threw the car into reverse, attempting to spin around and flee the way he came.
But Arthur was already there.
He didn't brake. He braced himself against the steering wheel and drove his heavy SUV directly into the rear quarter-panel of the reversing Mercedes. The impact was deafening. The luxury car spun violently, slamming against the steel guardrail of the bridge and stalling out in a hiss of steam and crushed metal.
Arthur kicked his door open and stepped out onto the asphalt. Police officers were already rushing forward, weapons drawn, shouting commands.
Through the shattered window of the Mercedes, Arthur saw Dr. Aris slumped against the deployed airbag, dazed and bleeding from his lip. The heavy duffel bag of evidence sat securely in the passenger seat.
Detective Miller's unmarked sedan screeched to a halt behind Arthur's SUV. The detective got out, looking from the wrecked Mercedes to Arthur's bloodied, battered face.
"I told you not to engage," Miller said, though there was a distinct note of respect in his voice.
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Arthur looked at the duffel bag in the wrecked car, then up at the darkening sky. A profound sense of relief washed over him, completely extinguishing his anger.
"He's all yours, Detective," Arthur said softly. "I need to get back to the hospital. My son is waiting for me."
