Overcoming Obstacles
16-Feb-99 23:28:08

Overcoming Obstacles

It felt like a dream. She could see the road stretching ahead in the beam of the headlights, and see her own gloved hands on the steering wheel, but the scene was distant and surreal, as if she were watching an acctress play her part in a film. She was driving through the night to meet a man, an enemy. Driving to meet him on a dark rural road, far from anyone or anything. Alone. He was waiting for her, expecting her. He felt confident and in control of the meeting and in control of her. He was a fool, but that would be obvious soon enough. The car was warm and quiet, the little turbocharged engine making a high pitched snarl because she had left the shifter in D2, preventing it from shifting up into overdrive, keeping the revs high. She did this intentionally. She liked that growling sound and the way the car accelerated out of the turns. But the car’s pedigree prevented the engine from forgetting it’s manners. The snarl was distant and controlled. More distant and better controlled than her own. The snarling car, the leather seats caressing her bum, the red lights in the gauges, and the expectation of the meeting, especially it’s outcome, all of it she found erotic. She let it be erotic. She wanted it to be. She had let it build until as she replayed the scenes to be in her mind, until now her throat was dry and her erogenous zones tingled. She was feeling sexy. She was feeling deadly.

She was going to drive away from this meeting a rich woman. For ten months she has been arbitraging the hostile takeover of one manufacturing firm by another. It was all big fish eating little fish so far as she was concerned. The thing that just struck you was how incredibly rich it was making some of the officers of the target company. In exchange for their cooperation and silence, they had been allowed to sell short their company’s stock, long before the takeover became public. She had seen this before, how the power set took care of themselves first, she decided that this time she would have to see that she was well taken car of herself. For six months now she had been skimming money out of the accounts. Things all moved so quickly that the trades were difficult for the officers and for her legal firm to keep up with. The secrecy an illegality were the icing on the cake. So after only six months hard work, she had earned 100 times what she might have earned in six years as an attorney. A female attorney who would not make partner with the old boys to be that she worked with. The bright leather sports bag on her back seat was filled with barer bonds, negotiable anywhere. Especially negotiable in places where the summer stayed and played all year long, After this meeting she would never work another day in her life. There was just one more obstacle in her path.

The emails had started about two weeks ago. Someone knew, and they knew a lot. She was being blackmailed. They wanted it all. In exchange of nothing more than an unsecured promise of silence they wanted all the money. Her money. Her future. They had explained carefully how to transfer the accounts into the bonds. Actually it was a much better idea that wiring the funds to directly a Swiss bank as she had planned. That left a trail. These bonds were nearly impossible to trace. All it meant was a visit to the bank in person. She would simply fly to Switzerland and made the deposit herself! Then rent a nice room and do some shushing in the Alps. There was only one more bump in the road.

The blackmailer had not wanted her followed, or traced, so he had rented a car for her and left it at the airport, the key under the mat. It was when she had read this that she began to breath again, to think again. She was more that willing to commit murder. Murder to conceal her crime. Murder to preserve the lifestyle to which she was about to become accustomed to. Murder to defeat her mortal enemy. Buy how? The last thing she needed was the attention of police. The embezzlement would remain undecected. No one else was involved was in a position to report it. Other crimes and misdemeanors could only complicate things. But now she had everything well in hand. She had the bonds, thanks to him. She had a car that could not be traced to her, thanks to him. She also had a gun. But she wouldn’t use it if she could avoid it. Too easily traced. She had a better weapon. One that gave more personal satisfaction to the user.

What she had in mind would leave doubt, and a lot of evidence. But none of it could lead to her. For her blackmailer had been careless, or more likely simply arrogant. She setup another dummy account and watched while he pawed through it. His was the only system id to query the records. The blackmailer was one of the officers in the target firm. He was 48, divorced, childless, and fancied himself a man about town. All the money he’d gotten from the agreement thus far had already gone up his nose, and now he wanted more. At first it made no sense. Why risk it all? More money was coming when the deal went public. She studied her blackmailer. She learned soon that he had been careless and had led the police to a dug buy. They arrested the mule, got the drugs and the money. None of this had hit the papers and it looked as though the man was going to give evidence. And already the drug dealer threatened to kill him. When the police found the body, the motive would seem simple enough.

She was driving the rental, a dark blue Audi. As rentals go it was really nice, a late model with a CD player and tan leather seats. It was inconspicuous enough, and she dressed to match, wearing s wool blazer and matching skirt, and black pumps with short heels. She looked like any professional woman driving a professional woman’s car.

She saw the road sign in the headlights and turned right onto a lane-and-a-half country road. She flipped on the high beams and driving lights, and turned down the radio. Only six or seven kilometers to go. The barn loomed suddenly out of the darkness and she had to break hard to turn into the drive. But instead of dropping off the bag and driving away as instructed, she just sat there with all six halogens blazing down the gravel path. After a moment he came out and approached the car, one hand shielding his eyes and one in his coat pocket. A gun! She had expected as much.

“Leave the bag and get outa here!” He shouted.

She rolled the window down an inch. “It’s not that simple. How do I know you’ll keep your word? Or that you won’t just kill me here?”

“I guess you just have to trust me. You don’t have a choice! Now hand over the bonds and go!” he barked.

“No... it’s not quite that simple. You see I don’t trust you. So I don’t have the bonds here with me. We’re going to have to go and get them. It a public place. Then you can have the car and the bonds.”

“Bitch!” he shouted! “Move over!”

“I’ll be doing the driving tonight” she shot back! “You won’t be as anxious to shoot me while I’m flying down the M1”.

She leaned over and popped open the left door. The man glowered, then ran around the car through the headlights and jumped into the passenger’s seat. The lights had blinded him, as she hoped, and he was quite obviously straining to see around the car.”

“What’s this back here!” he snapped, and leaned back to inspect the sports bag. There was a snapping sound and he turned back quickly and sat down. Grimacing and gritting his teeth he turned to see her holding a Tazer. The 50,000 volt charge had paralyzed his upper body and left him in too much pain to talk. He looked up into her face and she repeated “you see, like I tried to tell you, it’s not quite that simple”. She smiled and casually hit him with another jolt. He doubled over and rolled his head on the dashboard. She reached into his jacket and withdrew the revolver. She held it up and brandished the Tazer. “Any more toys?” she demanded. He cowered back, leaning on the door. “No!” he said. “No more, just that.” By now the Tazer had stopped its camera flash whine. “Hey you” she said laughing. He rolled his head to face her. “your dead” she said, and zapped him a third time.

She backed the car out of the drive onto the narrow road. Still in reverse, she braked to a stop and reached over the man, opening the door. She sat up and gave him a shove. “Like I said, I’ll be doing the driving tonight.” The man spilled out of the car and hit the pavement with a slap. His lay in a twitching heap on the pavement with his feet still stretching up into the car. She took her foot off the break and let the car creep back until his body had slid beneath the door, the feet following closely behind. The car continued back, the sound of the motor and the exhaust sounding strange through the open door. . She reached over and closed the door and pressed the electric locks. The outdoor sounds diminished and the sharp click of the lock told her that she was in total control. The left front type ran up and over something, in two distinct movements, up, pause, and then down with a thud. It felt like backing over a curb. But it wasn’t a curb. A shiver ran through her and she inhaled.

She backed up more quickly, the gearbox making it’s whirring sound, she looking through the windscreen rather than back. The man appeared in the bright lights. She backed a little further and then braked gently to a stop. He was on his lying on his side and facing her, still suffering from the Tazer but now also interested in his left leg, which he was feeling gently with one outstretched hand. Soon he was aware of the lights and turned to look in her direction, squinting, trying to deny what the fear growing within him was saying. She shifted into drive, the car shuddered. She looked across the red gauges and across the sloping bonnet and looked at her enemy lying defeated and helpless before her. Now the fun part. Her heart was pounding and her groin tingling. She took one gloved hand off of the steering wheel and ran her finger around a nipple. Then the hand went to the radio, pressing the CD in and turning up the volume. The hand raised her skirt and found her crotch and she raced the car’s motor, her foot firmly on the brake. The car snarled and twisted one, two, three times. She shuddered. Why was this so sexual? Because she had first feared him, then hated him, and now defeated him? Perhaps that was why. Was this a hunter’s instinct? No, a warrior’s perhaps. It felt wonderful. She shifted into neutral pressed slowly down on the accelerator and let the engine wind up. Then she shifted into drive. The car shot forward, covering the distance to the man in a few seconds, the six halogen beams illuminating his growing form in a hot white glare. He held arm out to fend the charging beast off. His mouth opened in a scream but Nick Jagger drowned it out. He disappeared below the line of the bonnet for an instant before she struck him. There was less of a shock than she expected. She was braced against the wheel, but the car only shuddered and bumped as the front tyres ran over him. She felt the car rise up and heard a muffled thump. She waited with anticipation for the back tyres to run over him, but there was a delay. Then, too late it seemed, the back to the car bounced over him.

She braked sharply soon after, but the momentum carried the car forward about 50 meters. Her hand returned to skirt. She continued to run her gloved finger in a circle around her clitoris while looked in the rearview mirror. There was a dark shape in the road behind her, illuminated by the red glow of the brake lights. It was closer than she’d expected. Then she understood the delay. She had dragged him under her car for about 20 meters before he went under the back tyres. Good! Fuck you! She grinned.

She took her hand out of her skirt and slipped the gearshift into neutral and then reverse, the car giving a shudder in response to each. The road behind her lit up in the white lume of the reversing lights. In the while light she could make out the colour of his coat and see the gleam of his shoes. The hand went to the volume control, turned it down, then back to her skirt. She watched for movement, for signs of breathing, but nothing was visible. She’d been afraid that the experience would be too gross, and that she would have trouble with this part; the critical making sure part. But now she felt quite the opposite. She was disappointed in him. This was tool quick. She hoped he was still alive, and aware of what was happening. She wanted him to think about what had happened. What was happening now.

She turned in the seat and looked back, as any safe driver would when backing. Her foot left the brake for the gas and pressed the petal lightly. The car started back and the gears whirred. Just he disappeared from view behind the boot she slowed. The tyres found him. She pressed on the gas and the back of the car rose up gently. She braked to a stop and listened to the motor purring. She felt a distance from him emotionally, no pity, no remorse whatsoever. She had a quiet orgasm with him under the back tyres. She took her foot off the break, and remembering that he had dragged before, pressed the gas petal sharply. The car dropped off him with a bump and whirred back. After 10 seconds he had still not appeared. Stuck again. She winced, but still thought it morbidly humorous. She tromped the gas and the car shot back. She could feel a rolling motion under the car, followed by the spinning of the front tyres. She let off the gas, the car found traction and climbed over the obstacle, dropping off with a thump.

She stopped quickly, so that the body wouldn’t appear suddenly in the lights. She was sure it was a terrible sight by now. She crept back until he was just visible. Without really examining him, she located his head. There was blood and something else, but she didn’t look. She just mentally marked it’s location. Back to work. He must be absolutely dead. No hospital room interrogations could be permitted. She turned the steering wheel sharply to the left so that she could smash the head, the tyres making a harsh rasping sound as they twisted in place. Radio up. Shifting to drive, she idled forward until the right front tyre found the target and stopped. She pressed slowly down on the petal, the motor hummed, and the car began ride up on the head, only to drop gently as it crushed. She drove on ahead, straightening the wheels quickly to stay out of the ditch. The rear wheel struck the man somewhere near the chest and the back of the bounced up, stayed up for an instant, then dropped. She drove on without looking back.

As she approached the intersection with the first highway she looked at the clock. It was nearly 2 am. She searched for American country music on FM and accelerated on the good road. As headed for the airport she made a mental list of what she would pack and what she would wear on the plane.