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

“All right, so what are we going to do once we catch up? Pull up beside him and ask him nicely to pull over?”

“Do you think that’ll work?” Annie asked. She tapped a button on the dash, and several indicator lights above it began flashing.

Connor realized the Outfit had installed several features in his ride, including police lights. “Nice.”

The early-afternoon traffic was light, and most of the cars yielded for the Tahoe’s emergency lights, but Connor had learned something on the ride-alongs he’d done with police before joining the army: reds and blues made people stupid. In fact, he’d experienced the phenomenon himself more than a few times. Seeing the flashing lights in the rearview spiked his adrenaline every time. Some people’s natural reaction was to simply pull to the right side of the road the way they’d been taught. Others seemed to lose all comprehension of what they were supposed to do. Some pulled left, some didn’t stop at all, some stopped right in the middle of the road and threw their hands up and glared at the police when they passed.

The officers Connor had ridden with told him that there were times when they didn’t run code specifically because of those people who would do stupid things like stop right in front of them. One of the officers even demonstrated that to Connor by swerving through traffic without a care in the world and without traffic ever once blocking him in or pulling off to the wrong side.

“All right,” Annie said, pointing. “Four cars up in the left lane.”

The black Mercedes wasn’t moving any faster than the surrounding traffic. Connor pulled into the far-left lane and waited for the cars ahead to move out of the way before accelerating to catch Wagner’s car.

It took a few moments for Wagner to realize they were behind him. Connor saw the man register the lights in his rearview, and could almost hear the argument in the man’s head, debating whether to pull over or flee. It could’ve gone either way, he realized, and they’d have been shit out of luck if Wagner decided to floor it. A high-speed chase on the interstate was sure to draw the attention of a trooper or six, and then they’d have even more problems to deal with. Besides, the Mercedes was inevitably the better vehicle for a race.

But Wagner’s right blinker came on, indicating he was changing lanes, heading for the shoulder, and Connor let out a relieved breath.

Annie pulled her pistol from its holster at the small of her back. “See? Easy-peasy.”

The Mercedes slowed to a stop on the shoulder, its hazards blinking. The man was at least a considerate driver, mass-murdering terrorist notwithstanding.

“Okay, guys.” Brice’s voice came over the car’s speakers. “I’ll keep watch from the eye in the sky and keep you posted. You got this.”

Connor pulled up behind the Mercedes and gave Annie a sidelong look as he put the Tahoe in park. “How do you want to approach him? Ask him for his license and registration?”

Annie gave him a sardonic look. “Yeah, you do that.”

Connor approached on the driver’s side, hand on his pistol, as Annie moved up along the passenger side. He stopped just behind the B-pillar, just like he’d seen on police shows his entire life, his heart pounding. He’d been in some pretty hairy combat scenarios overseas, but at least they’d known what they were going into over there. He couldn’t imagine stopping cars like this every day, never knowing what to expect, each encounter having the possibility of turning deadly at the drop of a hat.

He leaned forward. “Good afternoon, sir. Can you put your vehicle in park please and shut it off?”

“Of course, officer,” Wagner said without looking around. His thick German accent made him a bit difficult to understand. He shut off the car, then finally looked up. “What seems to be the trouble?” He frowned when he saw that Connor wasn’t wearing a police uniform.

“We just need to ask you a few questions,” Connor said.

“Questions?”

Annie pulled open the passenger door and brought her pistol up, leveling it at Wagner’s temple. “You move, you die.”

Wagner froze.

“Hands up.” Annie motioned with the barrel of her pistol.

The German slowly lifted his hands without taking his gaze from the gun. “What is this?”

“Now, the gun you have on your right hip, don’t even think about touching it. Do you understand?”

Wagner nodded. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple.

Connor opened the door behind Wagner and slid into the back seat. He reached forward, lifted the man’s shirt, and removed the pistol before climbing back out and shoving it in his waistband at the small of his back. He nodded to Annie when it was secure.

“All right,” she said. “Now, we’re going to get out and come back to our car, got it? You’re going to walk like nothing’s wrong. You’re going to get into the passenger seat and buckle your seatbelt, and you’re going to sit there like a gentleman, right?”

Wagner nodded again.

Connor stepped back as the man exited the vehicle, keeping him beyond arm’s reach. “Arms up,” Connor said. “I’m going to check you for additional weapons.”

Wagner raised his hands as Connor holstered his pistol and Annie trained hers on Wagner’s head.

After a quick frisking on the side of the highway, Annie followed Connor to the Tahoe’s open front passenger door, waited for him to get in, then shut the door. She climbed into the back seat and pushed the barrel of her pistol through the space between the headrest and the top of the seat, pressing the silencer into the base of Wagner’s skull.

Connor got behind the wheel.

“I don’t understand,” Wagner said. “You are cops. What is this about?”

Brice had already downloaded the location of the safe house to their navigation system. Connor glanced at the console screen and pulled into traffic.

“Cops?” Annie said. “No, not cops. We’re much worse than that.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Twenty minutes later Connor pulled into an empty warehouse