Express Delivery: Spiced and Stirred

Chapter 18: Night Chase on the Freeway

The wet heat of Jakarta’s monsoon air smacked Zayyan in the face the second they erupted from the lower garage access of Thorne Tower. He didn’t bother with a helmet; there was no time. The rain was coming down in thick, gray sheets, turning the asphalt into a mirror of neon reflections and black oil.

He vaulted onto the seat of the Ducati Panigale V4. The twin-cylinder engine didn't just turn over—it exploded to life with a brutal, heavy bark that reverberated against the concrete columns of the loading bay. Behind him, Keisha threw her leg over the rear saddle. She didn't hesitate. She locked her bare, cold arms around his chest so hard she almost squeezed the breath right out of his lungs.

"Budi!" Zayyan yelled into his collar-mic, the roaring of the engine threatening to swallow his voice. "We're on the tarmac. Where’s our run?"

"Get onto the Tomang Toll Road, north direction!" Budi’s voice shrieked back, competing with the heavy static of the jamming residual. "I’m tracking Julian’s primary personal transport—an armored Mercedes G-Wagon. He’s hauling ass toward the private aviation terminal at Halim. But Marcus’s backup convoy is already shadowing you from the inner ring road!"

"How many, Budi?" Keisha called out over Zayyan’s shoulder, her chin resting on the wet leather of his back.

"Three heavy SUVs! Audi Q7s, blacked-out, fully armored, probably packing more than just executive briefcases!" Budi gasped. "They just breached the plaza gate three hundred meters behind you!"

Zayyan clicked his jaw, a tight, grim smile spreading across his lips as he twisted the throttle. "Then let's show them why the Mahardika logistics company never got a traffic ticket."

The Ducati didn't roll out; it launched. The rear tire fought for traction on the slick, grease-painted concrete before catching with a sharp screech, sending them shooting out of the tower alley and straight onto the access ramp of the elevated highway.

Below them, Jakarta’s traffic was a crawling dragon of red taillights, but the toll lanes above were wide, empty, and slick as glass. Zayyan tucked his head down behind the small wind-screen, his eyes narrowed as the wind slapped his face. The digital tachometer flared red as he shifted up to third, then fourth. One hundred and forty kilometers per hour. The rain hit his skin like a salvo of tiny, freezing needles.

In his rearview mirror, three pairs of blinding LED high-beams blasted through the rain curtains.

"They’re gaining!" Keisha shouted, her grip tightening until Zayyan could feel her pulse racing against his ribs. "They have V8 superchargers, Zayyan! They’ll ram us from behind!"

"Not on my watch," Zayyan muttered. He slammed his foot down on the gear lever, downshifting to match a sharp, banking turn on the toll-way ramp.

The V4’s engine wailed as the back end skidded outward in a delicate, beautiful power-slide. Zayyan balanced the lean with a thumb-flick of the rear brake, his knee scraping the wet concrete barrier of the overpass before straightening the bike with a hard punch of the throttle.

PING-SPARK!

A high-velocity round hit the metal casing of the highway barrier behind them, kicking up a shower of bright white sparks that dissolved in the dark. One of the Audis had pulled level, its front passenger window rolled down to reveal a mercenary leaning out with a tactical submachine gun.

"Keisha, the tablet!" Zayyan yelled, leaning the bike further to weave between two massive cargo trucks. "Tell Budi to lock the toll gate selectors three kilometers ahead! We need a choke point!"

Keisha’s left hand shot out from around his waist, her fingers already tap-firing commands onto the glass screen of the old military-grade terminal nestled in her lap. Her wet hair flew wild in the storm, but her expression was pure iron. "Budi! Override the automatic toll barriers at the Kuningan intersection! Drop the manual lanes to zero clearance!"

"Are you trying to kill the civilians?" Budi wailed.

"Just close the automated commercial lanes, you idiot!" Keisha snapped. "They have solid concrete splitters! Leave the truck lane open!"

"On it! Injecting the PLC override... now!"

Up ahead, the neon canopy of the Kuningan toll gate materialized through the fog like a glowing alien spaceship. The digital signs above the five automated passenger lanes suddenly shifted from green checkmarks to flashing red crosses. The heavy, automated yellow iron barriers slammed down.

The two lead Audi SUVs didn't slow down. They tried to adjust their lanes, but at one hundred and sixty kilometers per hour, the concrete divider splitters were a death sentence.

The first SUV hit the heavy yellow gate at full speed. The barrier shattered, but the impact sent the massive three-ton vehicle into a violent, sideways roll. It hit the concrete lane divider, flipped twice in a spectacular shower of fuel and flame, and exploded against the toll plaza booth.

The second Audi swerved to avoid the wreckage, its tires losing traction on the oil-slicked asphalt. It skidded sideways, slamming nose-first into the structural concrete pillar of the overpass with a concussive, heavy crunch that bent the vehicle in half.

Zayyan didn't touch his brakes. He guided the screaming Ducati through the single, open, six-inch clearance gap of the commercial truck lane, the handlebars of the V4 clearing the concrete posts by barely a thumbnail.

"One left!" Keisha shouted, her breath hot on his neck as they burst through the other side of the toll gates.

The third Audi had managed to slip through the truck lane behind them. It was closer now, its black nose bearing down on the Ducati’s rear fender like a rabid animal.

"Zayyan! The driver's matching our speed! He's going to pit-maneuver us!"

Zayyan checked his left flank. A heavy container semi-truck was laboring up the highway's inclined ramp, its massive metal trailer casting a giant shadow across the lanes.

"Budi, do we have any local utility control on this stretch of the highway?" Zayyan asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"There's an overhead variable message sign! One hundred meters ahead! I have a direct terminal to its LED grid!" Budi yelled. "But what is that going to do? Write him a polite message to stop shooting?"

"Tell the sign to display maximum voltage on the maintenance channel. Clear the orange diodes to white-out. Now!"

As the Ducati flew under the steel structure of the overhead display, the massive digital sign didn't display the standard speed warning. Instead, Budi overloaded the industrial transformer of the display, sending a sudden, blinding, five-million-lumen surge of white strobe light downward onto the highway.

It was a miniature sun appearing in the middle of a monsoon night.

The mercenary driver in the third Audi, his eyes adjusted to the dark with military-grade night-vision goggles, didn't stand a chance. The massive flashover blinded his optics instantly, causing him to scream as he instinctively yanked his steering wheel to the right.

The Audi swerved, clipping the rear tires of the heavy semi-truck.

The impact tore the SUV’s front axle clean off. The vehicle drifted out of control, its side panel grinding against the highway’s steel guardrails with a deafening screech of tearing metal, before dropping fifty feet down into the muddy drainage canal below the overpass.

The silence that returned was thick, broken only by the steady, high-octane song of the V4.

Zayyan slowly reduced his speed, pulling the bike into the far-left lane as the city lights of Jakarta’s business hub began to recede behind them. He let out a long, ragged breath, his muscles trembling slightly under the cold wet fabric of his shirt.

He looked down at Keisha’s bare arm, still locked firmly around his chest. He reached down with his gloved left hand, placing his fingers over her cold knuckles.

"How was that for a delivery route, Boss?" Zayyan whispered, a slow, familiar smirk returning to his lips.

Keisha let out a soft, shaking laugh, her head sinking into the space between his shoulder blades. Her breathing was fast, but she didn't let go. Not even a fraction.

"If we survive the night, Zayyan," her voice drifted up through the wind, softer and warmer than he had ever heard it. "I’m going to buy you your own corporate delivery highway."

"I’ll hold you to that," he grinned, accelerating into the dark. "Because I think the next stop has a very tight schedule."