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Bryson was taken away from her by two paramedics she knew well. The last thing she saw was him being loaded into their vehicle and being whisked away. She was pushed inside the back seat of a police car, the door slammed behind her, and the driver jumped in and sped off.
She raised herself so she could see out the rear window. She watched as one of the bomb techs ran back to their cargo van, waving at everyone to get away. The relative silence of the night was split as a loud boom signaled an explosion that looked like fireworks. Only they weren’t, and she knew it.
“Anyone else hurt?” she croaked from the backseat.
“No, ma’am. Everybody got away clean. The harbor fire boats are already fighting the fire and fire trucks are on the way.”
“There’s a deserted private airport just this side of the Potomac. That’s where Martel is heading. Send armed units and SWAT to that location.”
“I’m just a patrolman; I can’t order that kind of thing.”
“Fuck!” She depressed the button again. “Request armed units and SWAT report to the Pearson Airport just this side of the Potomac. Murder, drug and corruption suspects are attempting to flee the jurisdiction. Consider them to be armed and dangerous.” Christie laid back, trying to catch her breath, before dragging herself back to a sitting position. “Now, officer, are you going to get me to that airport, or do I have to get out and hitchhike?”
“Ma’am, dispatch said to get you to the hospital.”
“I outrank dispatch, and I’m overriding their instructions and giving you a direct order. Take me to that airport or so help me god, I will make it my life’s work to get you kicked off the force and will blacken your name so badly no one will ever hire you.”
The kid seemed to think about it and then, muttering something that sounded a lot like ‘ball-busting bitch,’ he headed to the airport.
