Meet Your Maker
a Bradley Whitman novel
other novels in the series:
A Picture of Pretense
Shadow in the Sandpit
MEET YOUR MAKER
Barely missing the woman who pushed a double-wide stroller and grazing a parking meter, the black Dodge Charger careened around the corner and skipped over the curb as it made its way from Salem Street past the Old North Church and onto Charter. The driver slammed the brakes, forcing the car into a rubber-grinding spin that spewed clouds of noxious fumes into the street. The menacing vehicle stopped, facing the wrong way on the one-way street, and sat idling. A Massachusetts Armored Transportation truck headed toward the car and picked up speed with no intention of slowing down. The vehicles played a game of chicken, and neither looked like it would give in. A collision became imminent.
“Cut!” a voice yelled over a bullhorn. “Okay, we got it. Let’s re-set for the crash scene.”
The driver of the Dodge unfastened himself from the safety harness, removed his helmet, and walked through hordes of cameras, crew, and equipment toward the man holding the bullhorn. He sat in a chair that read, Director.
“Is it ready?” the director asked.
“All set,” the driver replied.
“Ready on the set.”