Actual Stop (Agent O’Connor #1)(74)

I glanced at the lucky bastard who’d drawn the short straw and had to chauffeur me around for the next eleven-to-infinity days. Michael Prince was the picture of spry and together, damn him, and when he noticed me looking at him, he smiled.

“You okay?”

I sighed. “Yeah.” I took a sip of my third cup of coffee and winced at the temperature.

“Mark been beating you up?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. You?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“How’d that report work out for you the other day?” Or had it been last week? I wasn’t sure. Jesus, I was tired.

“Good. Thanks. You were a big help.”

I waved my free hand dismissively. “No problem.”

“I gotta tell you, I was really looking forward to this assignment.”

“Why’s that?”

“I like to take a break from investigations every once in a while, you know? The change of pace is good for me.”

“It is that.” I didn’t even have the energy to converse. The remainder of my day wasn’t looking good.

“So, what’s the schedule like today, anyway?”

The president of Iran had arrived on time, and we were shuttling him from the airport to New York City, where we had days upon days of meetings and appointments and dinners to look forward to. It wouldn’t be very interesting for us, nor would it be much fun. But all our visits couldn’t consist of live performances by Jon Bon Jovi or the Edge.

I consulted the mini survey I’d received from the lead advance agent while we’d killed time at the airport waiting for the delegation to land. “Down time at the hotel until seventeen-hundred. Then meetings at the UN for the remainder of the day. Dinner at Nobu at twenty-one hundred. TBD after that.”

I groaned as the words left my mouth. TBD was never a good sign. That could mean we were going back to the hotel for the night—and I’d be able to get some much-needed sleep—or it could mean we were going out on the town. We wouldn’t know until the president or one of the members of his delegation told us. I frowned at my coffee cup. How much caffeine could the human body effectively consume? I must’ve conducted that experiment before, but I couldn’t remember what I’d come up with.

“You gonna make it?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m good.” I rolled my head from side to side to crack my neck and opened the window a bit, hoping some cool air would enliven me.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

Michael hesitated. “I’ve never driven in a motorcade before.”

I blinked at him and sat up straighter. Holy shit. I must’ve been really out of it to not have asked him that question. I was a fairly senior agent in the PI Squad and as a result almost always had someone my junior drive. I always reviewed the rules of motorcade driving with my counterpart if I hadn’t worked with them before. How could I have dropped the ball on that?

“In a PI capacity or ever?” I asked, just to clarify.

“Ever. Well, except in training. But it’s been a while, and I’m a little rusty.”

“Oh, Michael, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I forgot to ask.”

“It’s my fault. I should’ve said something earlier. I just don’t want to do anything wrong, you know?”

“No. I flubbed it. I normally go over that while we’re waiting on the tarmac for wheels down. PI driving is easy and actually a lot of fun. While we’re here in the city, NYPD will assist us with intersection control. Just follow the pace of the rest of the motorcade. Stick close enough to Follow-Up so no one can get between us, but allow them enough room to maneuver. Help them clear the merges when you can. And if someone who doesn’t belong breaks into the motorcade, use your lights and sirens to encourage them to leave. If they don’t take the hint, either pit them or ram them, whichever is easier and whichever keeps the rest of the motorcade out of danger.”

After a click on the car radio, I heard the lead inform the hotel security room agents that we’d cleared a particular checkpoint, which cued them, and everyone else, that we were about five minutes out. The hotel agent responded and gave a preliminary situation report.

Michael chuckled—presumably at my last statement, as I saw nothing amusing in what’d just come out over the air—and then he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to be waiting for me to laugh with him, and when I didn’t, his eyes widened. “You’re serious.”

“Yup.” I shifted my attention from him to the passing scenery, so I could scrutinize folks on the street.

“You want me to ram a car if it gets into our motorcade.”

“Yup. Like I said, we’ll have intersection control here in the city. If someone gets into our motorcade who isn’t us, they already went through a police checkpoint to do it. Which, to me, says ill intent. I have no idea what that could possibly mean, but whatever they’re trying to do, we need to make sure it doesn’t happen to or near the limo. And if we can take care of it and keep the working shift out of it so they can continue to attend to the protectee, well, then we’ve done our job.”

Silence for a long moment. “You are hard-core, Ryan.”

I grinned before resuming my inspection of the people and buildings scattered along the New York City streets. “Thanks.”