Chameleon Read Online Free PDF

curve. Falmouth checked it out on the back-stretch markers. He was doing 65 and seemed to be picking up speed as he approached the far curve.
    Marza drove the Milena through the far curve of the track at 70 miles an hour, and it felt as if he were driving on the flats.
    ‘Fantastico ! he exclaimed, pulling into the straight. ‘Let’s goose her up a little — what do you say, Professor?’
    Di Fiere beamed. ‘You bet! Let’s pinch the lady’s ass, shall we? Slowly, now — don’t force her!’
    Marza raised an eyebrow, as if to say, ‘Are you telling me how to drive a car?’ and when the Professor pulled his head down into his shoulders in embarrassment and said ‘Scusi,’ Marza laughed and assured him, ‘No offense, my friend, it’s the excitement.’
    Di Fiere stared at the digital readout as Marza began to let the Milena loose, watching it climb fast by tenths of a mile.
    75.5.
    80.
    80.6.
    82.
    85.
    85.7.
    88.
    89.
    On the front stretch, Falmouth had checked it out at 62.8, watched it zap through the near turn without even dropping a tenth of a mile an hour, and then zoom into the back stretch.
    Now he watched as the digital readout climbed over 80.
    Good God, he’s going for it.
    The back stretch swept under Marza and Di Fiere as the car moved out, climbing steadily without faltering, the digital reader flicking faster and faster.
    82 ... Falmouth’s mouth turned to cotton as his fingers nimbly punched away at the calculator. Sweat dribbled down the side of his face and, annoyed, he swept it away with the back of his hand.
    89.9.
    ‘E stupendo! Marza yelled.
    They hit 90 and the C-4 went off on order.
    When it exploded, the main force of the blast was directed down toward the ground, lifting the front of the car and instantly separating the tie rods that held the wheels in line. They popped apart like brittle sticks. The wheels went haywire. At the same time, the phosphorus wire fuse sizzled straight back along the frame toward the gas tank.
    Marza was heading into the turn, leaning with the car, his arms extended almost straight out in a classic driving position, when he felt the blast in front of his feet. The fire wall shattered and a hot burst of gas rushed into the cockpit. A moment later the wheel was wrenched from his hands. The car went wildly out of control as he grabbed frantically for the steering wheel and tried to get it back. It swerved, ripping into the inside wall of the turn at about forty-five degrees, and the left front side of the car shattered. The fenders peeled back with the agonized scream of tearing metal, the engine was torn from its mounts and the air bags under the dash whooshed full and jammed Marza and the Professor into their seats.
    The car careened off the wall and a moment later the gas tanks exploded. The Milena was catapulted across the track toward the other wall when Marza felt the rear blow out, felt the sudden, ghastly rush of heat and then the flames boiling through the back seat, enveloping both him and Di Fiere, and then the air bags burst.
    The old man screamed once as the fire rushed into his nose and mouth and scorched his lungs. Then he was dead.
    For Marza, it seemed to take forever, although it was no more than a second or two. As the car spun crazily across the track he saw his old enemy, that grinning, obscene apparition he had seen so many times before and shunned, sitting on the wall straight ahead of him, wrapped in flames, motioning to him, drawing him on, and as the car crashed headlong into the wall, Death opened his arms and the driver rushed to his embrace.
    VI
    Falmouth did not relax until the train was out of Verona station and well on its way north toward the Alps.
    His heart was rapping at his ribs and his shirt was damp with sweat when he found his compartment and sat down. He leaned back, closed his eyes and hummed to himself, slowing everything down. He clocked off the list in his head, making sure it had gone right.
    He was certain no one