Seeing the entrance to the Interstate highway ahead, a smile finally appeared on Hunter's face.
He didn't know yet that, despite his interference...
Robert McCall was preparing to come out of retirement not for Teri, but for Lautner, the diner owner who had been kidnapped by the Russian mob.
Hunter only knew one thing: once he got Teri onto the highway...
With his [Driving Lv 4] and his modified motorcycle...
He should be able to shake off any pursuit and escape safely in no time.
"Hold on tight. I'm speeding up once we hit the highway."
Hunter turned his head slightly and shouted to Teri.
Teri didn't speak, but her tightening grip on his arms was answer enough.
Vroom!
The motorcycle merged onto the Interstate.
As the distance from downtown Boston increased, Hunter twisted the throttle, pushing the bike faster and faster.
70... 80... 100... 120 mph.
Soon, the speedometer climbed past 120.
The wind howled around them.
It was June, early summer.
Hunter, with his enhanced physique, was fine. But Teri, wearing only a flimsy, revealing top and a short skirt, quickly felt the chill biting into her skin.
Unconsciously, her arms tightened around Hunter's waist.
Her whole body pressed firmly against his back.
Hunter felt it immediately.
Since it was summer, despite his heavy disguise, his clothes were light—just a thin shirt with flashy patterns.
Through the thin fabric, he could clearly feel the softness pressed against him.
But he didn't have time to enjoy the sensation.
A buzzing sound came from the sky.
Hunter instinctively looked up and to the side. Several hundred meters behind them, in the air...
A small plane was decelerating, banking toward the highway.
Over the past few months, to level up his [Reading] skill, Hunter had subscribed to numerous magazines and newspapers.
One of them was specialized in general aviation and private aircraft.
So, Hunter recognized the plane instantly.
It was a Cessna 172, one of the most popular small aircraft in the US.
The Cessna 172 Skyhawk was a four-seat, single-engine, high-wing aircraft produced by the Cessna Aircraft Company since 1956.
It was the first in the Cessna lineup to feature tricycle landing gear.
Because of its low cost and reliability, the 172 was the most produced aircraft in history.
In the US, there were reportedly over 100,000 in private hands.
A brand-new model with modern avionics and GPS cost around $200,000.
Older models could be found for $70,000-$80,000.
On the used market, a plane over a decade old might sell for as little as $10,000-$20,000.
And because the Cessna 172 required very little runway to take off and land...
Many farmers in the US bought them, modified them, and used them for agricultural purposes.
So, initially, Hunter didn't suspect it was targeting him.
But they hadn't fully left the Greater Boston area yet.
Unease gnawed at him.
He pushed the bike harder.
The speed spiked to over 150 mph.
Traffic on the Interstate was moderate.
This highway led to Albany, the capital of New York State, over 200 kilometers away.
Albany was a major inland port on the Hudson River and connected to the Great Lakes. It was a hub for road, rail, and air transport.
Hunter planned to flee there with Teri.
Once in Albany, they could take a train or switch to a car to head back to Los Angeles.
Flying was out of the question.
The US had no national ID card, so passports, driver's licenses, or Green Cards were used.
But federal databases weren't always linked, making fake IDs viable.
However, Hunter doubted Teri had any ID on her.
And even if she did...
Buying a plane ticket to LA would be like broadcasting their destination to the Russian mob.
Buzz!
As Hunter sped away from Boston, the drone of the plane overhead didn't fade.
On the contrary, the plane—which should have been much faster than his bike—seemed to intentionally slow down.
It circled and hovered near them, biting onto their trail like a bulldog.
Hunter kept looking up.
Finally, a dark suspicion formed in his mind.
To verify it...
Seeing an exit ramp ahead, Hunter abandoned his original plan without hesitation.
He swerved off the highway.
Driving north along smaller backroads for over ten kilometers, the familiar buzz remained overhead.
Hunter noticed that as they left the highway lights behind...
The Cessna 172 dropped even lower. It was now flying only 30-40 meters above the ground, matching their pace.
"Damn it. I underestimated them."
Hunter's heart sank. He realized the plane almost certainly belonged to the Russian mob controlling Teri.
They must have a scanner on board tracking her implant.
His bike was fast, but unless he dealt with the eye in the sky...
They would track him relentlessly until the ground team caught up.
Hunter knew that once the pursuit vehicles hit the open highway, catching up was only a matter of time.
His motorcycle had a 12-liter tank. Cars had tanks holding 50-100 liters.
He couldn't outrun a plane and a convoy forever.
"No. I have to take that plane down first."
Hearing the engine noise grow louder above him...
Hunter's eyes turned cold. A plan formed in his mind.
He slowed down deliberately, scanning the dark landscape for a more secluded side road.
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