Patriot by M.A. Rothman (summer reading list TXT) 📗

city is going to go nuts,” Richards said. “According to a dispatch I saw leaving the governor’s communications office, he’s calling up the National Guard. National news are calling it the worst terror attack since 9/11. I’ll wager you’ll have people screaming that we’re going to war by the end of the day.”

“What’s Homeland Security saying?” Connor asked.

“Nothing yet. My guess is they won’t say anything for a while. Not while they’re still cleaning it up. It could take weeks, if not months, to work through the evidence. But my question for you is: is this it? Or is there more?”

Connor balled his hands up into fists. “Annie and I were talking and we’re thinking these may be decoys to distract from the big bomb that Hakimi’s got. We just have no idea where it would be going. Almost certainly, it wouldn’t be New York.”

“We can’t know that.” Richards said.

“We just intercepted a call from Wagner suggesting there was a final shipment going out today,” Annie said. “That might mean there’s more coming.”

“Or maybe that’s Hakimi’s load that just left? What’s stopping us from taking this guy down and figuring out what he knows?” Connor asked.

Annie smiled. “Now you’re talking my language.”

“Agreed.”

“And the shipment, too,” Connor said. “Twelve trucks left the oil warehouse today, bound for spots all up and down the East Coast. Snagging Wagner is one thing, but we need to try and stop the next attack. What other assets can you put on this, Richards?”

“Thompson and I are heading to New York now to liaise with Homeland.”

“Liaise? I thought you guys played it under the radar.”

“Most of the time we do, but sometimes it’s easier to flash some high-level credentials and observe things up close.”

Annie started packing her computer away. “You have an Outfit vehicle, right, Connor? Something with four wheels?”

“That’s right.”

“Richards, we’ll have our guy at the safe house in a couple hours.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Richards clicked off, and Annie loaded her gear into a black backpack. She shrugged the pack over one shoulder and nodded to the door. “What’re you waiting on? You’re driving. I hate driving cars.”

“Any chance you’d care to elaborate on the plan?” Connor said. “Since I’m apparently involved.” He held the door for her and followed her to the waiting Tahoe.

She smiled as she opened the passenger door and tossed her backpack between the seats. “Who said anything about a plan?”

Connor climbed behind the wheel, and Annie tapped a button on the rearview. A two-tone chime sounded. Connor raised an eyebrow at her, but she just made a spinning motion in the air with one finger and said, “Let’s go, Dad, the party’s about to start.”

Connor hit the push-button start. Another chime sounded as he pulled onto the main road, and Martin Brice’s voice came over the car speakers.

“Annie. I was wondering when you were going to call.”

Annie put one leg under her as she leaned forward and tapped the eight-inch touchscreen console in the middle of the dash. “You’re always wondering and never doing. You know my number.”

“And you never answer my calls.”

Annie winked at Connor. “It’s true. You got Wagner’s tracking signal?”

“Yep, signal’s strong and steady.”

“Put it through on our end.”

“You know people respond better to requests when you say please.”

“Please don’t make me have to kick your ass the next time I’m back at the office.”

The console changed from the main system menu to a top-down navigational map. It included two icons: an arrow indicating the Tahoe, and a flashing red dot moving away from them on one of the main thoroughfares out of the area.

“That’s him,” Brice said.

Annie gave Connor a knowing smile. “You ever play cops and robbers?”

Connor chuckled and stepped on the gas. He never had, but driving like one wasn’t exactly foreign to him. He’d done his share of mandatory defensive driving courses, especially back when they were operating in the sandbox. This was no enjoyable scenic drive through town, taking in landmarks and beautiful countryside.

He veered around a Honda, feeling the power of the Tahoe’s V8 reverberating through his seat. The Honda’s driver flipped them off, and Connor couldn’t help but smile. “Just like old times.”

He swerved back into his lane to a horn blast from an oncoming F-150. “What about the police?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about them,” Brice said. “The ones patrolling in your area are busy responding to a bomb threat at the Kinko’s Shipping Center on Walnut. They’ll be there for at least an hour.”

“Did you make a fake 911 call or is there really a bomb threat?”

“Does it matter? Or would you rather have them chasing your ass all over the countryside?” When Connor didn’t answer, Brice said, “I thought so.”

“Got your gun on you?” Annie asked.

“What is this, bring your kid to work day? Of course he has his gun on him. You have your gun on you, right?”

Connor lifted his shirt without taking his eyes off the road, revealing the pistol holstered at his waist. The tires squealed as he maneuvered through an S-curve, then he pushed the pedal further to the floor. They accelerated through an empty intersection.

In his peripheral, Connor saw Annie grab the roof handle. He grinned, accelerating harder. “Nervous?”

“I don’t like not being in control of my ride.”

“I’d heard that about you, my dear.”

“Brice, you better watch yourself or your lily-white skin will have all sorts of new shades of black and blue.” Annie tightened her grip on the handle and grunted as Connor swerved around another car.

“How we looking?” Connor asked, indicating the nav screen with a head nod, but leaving his attention on the road. He was going twice the speed limit now, and he was white-knuckling the steering wheel and focused on the road ahead.

“Two miles up, take a right, then—”

“Don’t give me the entire course, just give me what I need for the next turn.”

Annie glared at him. “I was going to say that it looks like he’s getting on the interstate. Should be easy enough for us to