He punched the gas pedal with his foot. The car accelerated to a respectable eighty miles per hour. Easily matching their speed, the Tahoe continued to gain. Paul managed to wring another ten miles per hour out of the engine, but the SUV moved closer.

The road began to go into a series of curves that matched the con- tour of the coastal hills. The rental vehicle was no sports car, but it held the road better on the turns than the big SUV, which leaned heavily as the curves became sharper. Trout had to hit the brakes to keep from going off the road, but the SUV was even less maneuver- able.

Slowed by the serpentine curves, the SUV lost ground. Trout curbed his elation. He kept his eyes glued to the road, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel, pushing his car to just under the speed at which it could go out of control and overshoot a curve. He knew that one lapse-a patch of sandy highway, an errant boulder or an error of judgment-could get them both killed in a fiery crash.

Gamay kept tabs on their pursuer and maintained a running com- mentary. The car's wheels squealed with each change in direction. Trout held it steady. He was running between sixty and seventy miles per hour, and was heading down a long, gradual slope in the road, when an unbelievable sight met his eyes.

Ahead of them, a black Tahoe had pulled out onto the road from behind a huge boulder. For a second, he thought the SUV behind him had used a shortcut.

Then Gamay shouted, “There are two SUVs. They're trying to sandwich us in.”

The vehicle in front of the Trouts' car slowed to block the road, and the other SUV quickly caught up from behind. Trout tried to go around, but each time he poked the rental car's nose into the on- coming lane, the SUV pulled in front of him. He touched the brakes to avoid a rear-end collision. The following SUV crashed into his rear bumper, crushing it into the trunk and sending the car into a neck- jolting wild fishtail.

Paul fought the wheel and managed to keep the car from going into a spin. The Tahoe slammed into the car again. The smell of gas from a ruptured tank filled the car. The Tahoe made another lunge, but this time Gamay saw it coming and yelled, “Right!”

Trout spun the wheel to the right and the Tahoe only clipped the bumper. Gamay glanced at the SUVs, which had pulled away.

“They're holding back for some reason.”

“That won't last,” Paul said. "Then we'd better do something soon. The rental agency is going

to wonder why their car is only two feet long. Damn, he's coming in again. Left!"

Trout jerked the wheel. The car moved into the passing lane, and