Font Size:  

"Yes. It's a Ford F-150 extended cab, late nineties model, hunter green and tan. He was traveling with two other guys, and the report is that the driver had an accent."

"Was there anything in the bed of the truck?"

"Not that we've heard, but we're getting our information third-and fourth-hand, right now."

Rapp stopped the car. "They could already be in Washington."

"The State Patrol doesn't think so. They had a trooper on the scene just four minutes after the deputy was hit, and they got out a description of the vehicle almost immediately. Within twenty minutes they had a plane and a helicopter in the air, one patrolling ninety-five and the other searching the surrounding area. My agent who spoke to them says they're fully staffed for the holiday weekend. They are virtually guaranteeing that this truck is still in the Richmond area."

"Any chance one of the other guys in the truck was al-Yamani?"

"I have no idea. This deputy isn't due out of surgery for at least another hour."

"Is he going to make it?"

"I have no idea, but listen. I know your wife is going to be pissed at me, but I need you to get back here. There are some things " McMahon hesitated. "Some things that Paul and I need you to help us with."

Rapp could tell that whatever it was, McMahon didn't want to talk about it over an unsecure line. "She won't be half as pissed at you as she will at me. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Rapp pushed the end button, swore to himself three times, and didn't move for nearly ten seconds. He just stared at his phone and tried to figure out how he was going to explain this to his inquisitive wife without giving her any details. He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and decided he'd put it off for a little while longer. If he was lucky, by the time he got back to the office, the fugitives would already be in custody. If that was case, he could probably wrangle Kennedy into arranging transportation on one of Langley's executive jets. Rapp knew this was all wishful thinking, but it was better than calling his wife right now and hearing the disappointment in her voice.

* * *

Sixty-Seven

RICHMOND

It was the scanner that had saved them. The little black box attached to the underside of the cab's dashboard began squawking not more than two minutes after they'd left the scene. Al-Yamani hadn't even noticed it. He was too busy talking to Hasan on his mobile phone, but Mohammed had heard every word of the drama as it unfolded, and it nearly gave him a heart attack. Like a lot of cabbies, Mohammed carried a police scanner. At first he did it to help avoid traffic tie-ups when there was an accident, but after a while the scanner became a source of entertainment. When he worked nights, the police chatter was often more interesting than the radio.

The initial report was that a motorist had reported an officer down. Mohammed knew that nothing got the cops more riled up than hearing that one of their brethren was hurt. Not more than two miles away from the incident a police car zipped past them headed to the aid of the fallen officer. Less than a minute later, a second and a third police car passed them. Just when Mohammed felt that they were going to get away, the voice of the officer he had hit came over the radio, giving a description of the truck he had pulled over and rambling on about some man the FBI was looking for.

Mohammed had to think fast. The plan was to take Interstate 295 over to Highway 301 and then up to Dahlgren on the Potomac River. That was where he had chartered the boat, paying for it in advance. Mohammed knew from experience, though, that 301 was a heavily patrolled road. His other option was to take Interstate 95, but that was even worse. Mohammed was once caught speeding on that road by an airplane. There was no way they could make it all the way to Dahlgren without being caught.

Mohammed told al-Yamani that they had to abandon the truck. He was then informed very succinctly that this was not an option. Since they could not get rid of the truck and knowing for sure that they would be caught if they went north or stayed on the main roads much longer, Mohammed made a quick decision and told al-Yamani to tell the others to follow him. He led them at high speed over several lightly traveled and tree-lined country roads away from both Richmond and Washington, D.C. Mohammed liked to fish, and he knew of an isolated spot where they could regroup and sort things out.

Mohammed and al-Yamani hung on every word that was uttered over the scanner. By the time they reached the York River, additional information about their caravan was being reported. A description of the trailer as well as the truck was now out, and to make matters worse, the police were also looking for a green-and-white Metro Cab.

With every mile they traveled, they risked getting caught. Finally, after passing through the town of Plum Point, al-Yamani decided it was time to stop running scared and take a gamble. It was the sight of water through the trees that gave him the idea.

"What is that body of water on our left?" al-Yamani asked Mohammed.

"That is the York River."

"Where does it lead?"

"To the Chesapeake Bay and then the Atlantic Ocean."

"And these roads we keep passing do they lead to homes on the river?"

"Yes."

"Take the next one."

Mohammed, obviously hesitant, looked over his shoulder.

Al-Yamani raised his voice and repeated the command. This time his friend followed orders, and they turned off the paved road onto a gravel drive and into the woods. Several hundred feet in, the drive split off in two directions. To the left there was a sign for two families and to the right only one.The Hansens. Al-Yamani told Mohammed to turn right. They followed the slightly rutted gravel drive for several hundred more feet. Intermittently they caught glimpses of the river as its surface sparkled in the afternoon sun, and then they saw the house.

It was a two-story Cape Cod with gray siding and white window trim. Next to it was a detached three car garage with a bunk house above it. Beyond both, there was a perfect carpet of lush grass that sloped down the river and a dock. Al-Yamani smiled when he saw the boat.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like