Hetman by Alex Shaw Page A

shouts and then a loud crack as something hit the rear of the taxi. Webb’s heart started to beat raggedly; it felt as though it was trying to escape from his chest. He forced the Daewoo to accelerate away and squinted to focus on the road ahead. He was now sweating; his hands wet on the wheel. He chanced a look back and saw that there were lights behind him, following him. What was happening, why was he being chased? Webb had no idea. He shot through a set of traffic lights narrowly missing a large tanker. He knew the roads now, he wasn’t too far from home but he couldn’t lead them there. The road swung in and out of focus as the alcohol refused to leave his system, Webb was heavy on the controls and the car jerked as he changed down to negotiate a bend. He clipped a parked car with his wing mirror, the glass shattered as it was ripped off.   The chase lights he now saw belonged to a large BMW and were getting closer. His breathing became heavier. Thoughts raced through his mind; who were they…what did they want… He reached the highway that dissected the Harkivskiy Massif district and saw lit up by the neon lights of the Billa Supermarket signage a Lada Samara with Militia markings. Webb aimed for it. As he slowed and drew near he saw that it was empty. Webb banged his fist on the wheel in frustration and was about to curse when there was a loud crack and something pinged off of the Daewoo. He ducked, he had never heard gunfire before but instantly realised that was what the noise had been. Whoever was chasing him had started to shoot! He floored the accelerator. The Daewoo jerked forward cresting the curb and across the car-park, before bouncing over the grass verge and back onto the tarmac. A grating noise started to come from the front suspension as Webb thrashed the car back up the gears. He saw a gap in the central reservation, snapped the steering wheel to the left and crossed to the other side of the road, changing direction.   He urged the taxi to go faster, he had to get away. The Daewoo started to vibrate angrily as it reached the 100k mark. He wiped the sweat from his brow. There were a few more cars about now as he continued along the main road back towards the river. He looked in the rear-view mirror and couldn’t see anyone following him. He let out a deep breath and relaxed slightly as the adrenalin started to leave his system. It was now almost five a.m. and a wave of tiredness rolled over him. His eyes closed…the Daewoo violently shook and bucked. Webb’s eyes snapped open. He had driven off the road. Too late to avoid the bus stop, Webb folded his arms in front of his face. His head hit hard and he blacked out.
    Webb tried to understand where he was as the world swum back into focus. He slithered out of the crumpled car. His eyes stung. He wiped them with his hands and saw blood now covering his palms. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket he dabbed at his eyes again. Webb looked back and saw that the passenger side of the car had been concertinaed, taking the brunt of the impact. He was lucky to be alive. It was a Saturday morning and the pavement was still empty as he tried to walk. His left ankle gave way and he all but fell. He hobbled from the scene of the accident still not knowing what to do. On the other side of the road he saw a large dark blue BMW saloon stop. Two men got out and started to run across the road dodging the light traffic whilst the car moved off again looking for somewhere to cross. Webb took a deep breath, put his head down and tried to run. He was fifty-six, overweight and drunk…and the pain in his foot was excruciating but he managed to move. He loped away from the road and towards the nearest block of flats. Reaching the monolithic high rise he clambered up the five steps to the entrance hall and went straight out of the other side. He was in a courtyard created by four apartment blocks facing each other. In the middle there was a small children’s play area.