The bikers were moving up again. Austin was pushing the car's envelope. He should have been dealing with the various controls governing water level, fuel pressure, pilot and other functions, but he was too busy staying on the road.

A moving shadow appeared suddenly on the highway. Austin glanced up and to the side. A helicopter was pacing them. “That was fast!”

“It's not the police,” Karla said. “It's a television station traffic helicopter.”

The helicopter appeared overhead and easily kept up with the chase. Austin frantically scoured his brain for a plan, but he had exhausted all his options. The car flew past an off-ramp. Austin glanced in the mirror and saw the bikes slow, then make a turn onto the ramp.

“Our friends have deserted us,” he said.

Karla turned just as the last Rebel soldier turned off the highway. “Why?” she said.

“Camera shy. They don't want to be on the six o'clock news.”

He slowed the car down to a manageable sixty. He and Karla waved up at the helicopter.

They were still waving when three Virginia State Police cruisers caught up with them. Austin heeded the phalanx of flashing lights and the wail of sirens and pulled off the highway. The Stanley was immediately surrounded by armed police officers. Austin suggested to Karla that she keep her hands where the police could see them. Once the police got past their nervousness and checked Austin's license and NUMA ID, they seemed more interested in the steamer than its occupants.

Austin told them about the six bikers who had tried to force them off the road. At his suggestion, they talked with someone at NUMA, who vouched for Austin. The television station backed up the biker story. After about an hour, Austin got his license back, and was told he and Karla were free to go.

They stopped at a car wash to clean the grass and dirt off the car body. Austin was amazed to see that the car hadn't been damaged. People who were leaving the battlefield smiled and waved when they saw the steamer drive up a short while later. A tall man with dark hair and opaline eyes was waiting patiently for them.

Austin braked the car to a halt and smiled. “Hi, Dirk. Thanks for the car loan.”

“I saw you go flying between the battlefield lines with the Hell's Angels on your tail. What's going on?”

“This is Karla Janos. Karla, Dirk Pitt.”

Pitt gave Karla his best smile. “I was looking forward to meeting you, Miss Janos.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“How fast did you have her up to?” he asked Austin.

“Around a hundred.”

“Impressive,” Pitt said. “I've only had her up to ninety.”

“Sorry to borrow your car without asking. We needed transportation in a hurry. Someone tried to kill us.”