The driver, the man who had shot Stojakovic, turned his attention from the mirror in disbelief and saw Morgan's continuing savage attack. In a flash, he produced a gun and, battling against his own erratic accelerating and braking of the Land Rover, levelled the gun at the dead centre of Morgan's bulky frame, silhouetted perfectly in the centre of the open rear door.
"Shoot him for fuck's sake!" cried Lundt. The driver fired, twice.
"Alex, no!" Arena screamed.
Both rounds missed Morgan, impacting instead into the body of the Land Rover, sending shards of jagged debris hurtling throughout the rear cabin.
Suddenly, amidst the bedlam and commotion of it all, Morgan was gone.
CHAPTER 59
With the deft proficiency of one who'd had enough of a recalcitrant, Commander David Sutherland dispensed with any consideration of Cornell as a star witness, and dropped the man with one well-placed strike. Now, on the corner of Hyde Park, at the entrance to Museum Station, Sutherland had Cornell face down on the wet pavement with cuffs on tight, just in time to see Alex Morgan propel himself onto the back of the escaping Land Rover.
Jesus Christ, he thought. What the hell is he doing?
The traffic was frenzied and horns were blaring, while up on the footpaths, people were too busy rushing clear of the storm to realise that they were heading into the middle of chaos. Unmarked police cars from Counter-Terrorism and Special Tactics were all over the intersection, with red and blue lights flashing and heavily-armed police swarming through the park, bringing the gunfight to a rapid close. Arrests were being made and bodies found. Three dead, two seriously injured, and an unknown number on the run. It had happened in minutes.
Dragging Cornell to his feet, Sutherland pushed him impatiently toward one of the police cars.
"He's all yours," Sutherland yelled over the rain to one of the officers he recognised as John Stojakovic's right hand, then shoved Cornell like a sack of wet spuds into the back of the car. "Don't let him out of your goddamn sight, bud! You got medics inbound for your boss?"
"Yeah," came the shouted reply. "Two guys are with him now and the ambo's are on the way."
"Good," Sutherland said, biting back the shooting pain in his knee, clapping the young Police Officer on the back. "Now, I need a car and your best driver to get after Major Morgan, and I need to speak to whoever is flying your chopper!"
* * *
Morgan fell backwards from the Land Rover, and bouncing across the hood of a BMW, forced its unsuspecting driver to brake sharply, narrowly avoiding a rear-ender collision for her troubles. Morgan tumbled left and then right, eventually rolling to a stop in the gutter. His body ached like hell and the pain in his shoulder was agonizing. The storm was hammering Sydney, and, with peak hour approaching, there was little hope that things would get any better. Ignoring it all, Morgan shook his head clear and raced across the street to see the Land Rover disappearing down William Street towards Kings Cross.
* * *
Sutherland rode in the passenger seat of a police vehicle driven by an uncompromising, tough officer named Tony Mugan. Mugan was tearing through the traffic, sirens blazing. "He's down there, bud," Sutherland yelled, pointing. "Left here!"
Mugan executed a perfect sideways slide against the red light and around into College Street.
"There he is, mate," said Mugan. "On the corner. Hang on."
The car raced into a clear space ahead of oncoming traffic. Sutherland was straight on the radio to the police helicopter, POLAIR, a Kawasaki BK-117 of the Police Air Wing that was on station high above Sydney, calling the play.
"Keep your eyes on that Land Rover," Sutherland was saying into the radio. "Stay on his tail and let me know the moment it stops or anyone gets out. Copy?"
"Copy that," came the urgent response from the chopper. "But you guys better get moving because he's heading towards the Cross and I may lose him in the tunnel. Stay on William Street."
"Shit!" Sutherland looked at Mugan. The policeman's eyes said, 'Got it'. Suddenly, Mugan brought the car to a screeching halt at the top end of William Street.
"Get in!" cried Sutherland, leaning across his seat to throw the back door open. Morgan dived in.
"What took you so long?"
"Traffic," Sutherland replied dryly, leaning through the seats. "You're bleeding, man. You hit?"
"Shoulder. It's nothing. I've got some movement back in the arm," Morgan replied, unconcerned. 'TU sort it out later." He looked straight at Sutherland. "He's got Arena, Dave."
"What!" Sutherland exclaimed. "How the..."