The Rescue(44)

The truck pulled into the slow-moving traffic, causing a discordance of horns and tire squeals.

“I don’t like it,” said Reeves. “Tail Three and Four, break off and stop that truck.”

The two vehicles behind Reeves’s vehicle swerved into the northbound lanes, scattering traffic. He peered through his binoculars at Mackenzie’s sedan, just as the passenger glanced back through the rear window. Decker was still there.

“This is Lead Two. I still have Decker and Mackenzie in the vehicle.”

“That’s what I’m seeing,” said Reeves. “Tail One. I want you right behind Decker from now on. Nothing gets between you and that car. Understand?”

“Understand,” said the agent. “Next chance I get, I’ll slip in behind them.”

“This is Tail Three. You still want us to stop the truck?”

He didn’t see any reason to pursue the truck, with both of his surveillance targets still in the car.

“Negative. Break off and work your way back into position,” said Reeves. “Use your emergency lights if you have to. It’s no secret we’re here.”

They picked up speed as the two lanes of traffic ahead of them poured through the intersection, but he knew it would be short-lived. It had taken nearly a minute for the packed cars to start moving when the light turned green. Seconds later, the lights facing them turned yellow. Presumably in response to the agonizingly short light, vehicles started turning onto the side roads, hoping to skip the busy intersection.

“This is Lead One. I’m moving into position right behind the target. We had some vehicles clear out.”

He briefly considered moving the car directly next to Decker, to prevent Mackenzie from turning them onto a side road, but decided against it. There was no feasible way to constantly maintain a direct lateral position in this kind of traffic. Tailgating Decker was the better option. Plus, Reeves had plenty of support on the side streets if Mackenzie decided to pull a drastic maneuver.

“Copy. Hold that position,” said Reeves.

A flood of brake lights streamed toward them, quickly bringing them to a stop. By his calculation, it would take them three more cycles to get through this intersection. If Mackenzie brought them all the way to the airport, they’d be stuck in this for another hour.

Kincaid let out an audible sigh. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“Tell me about it,” said Reeves.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Reeves could barely believe what he had just witnessed. Without warning, Mackenzie had veered off Lincoln Boulevard onto LAX’s ALL TERMINALS off-ramp. Decker was actually going to try to vanish in the airport. The two FBI vehicles directly ahead of Reeves’s sedan slid into place behind Mackenzie’s sedan. Kincaid eased them into the far-right lane, under the off-ramp sign.

“All units. The target just turned into the airport,” said Reeves. “Lead One and Two, circle back at Century Boulevard and take Ninety-Sixth Street to airport terminals. You’ll see the signs.”

Immediately after the two units responded, he got back on the radio.

“Tail One and Two, I’m going to move into position directly behind Decker. The off-ramp opens into several lanes. I’ll pass you there.”

“You really think he’s going to try something here?” said Kincaid.

“We can’t underestimate this guy,” said Reeves. “I don’t see how he can pull it off, but the guy managed to fake his own prison release. I’m not taking any chances. If he takes one step out of that vehicle, I’m hauling him in.”

Reeves redialed a number he’d contacted a half hour ago, reaching the LAXPD duty sergeant.

“Sergeant Powell.”

“Sergeant. This is Supervisory Special Agent Reeves again. My surveillance target just turned off Lincoln into the airport. I don’t know if he’s going for departures or arrivals yet, but I could use a few of your officers on each level to keep an eye on him, in case he gets too far ahead of us.”

“Not a problem. I have a few dozen officers on each level,” said Powell. “We can’t grab him without a warrant or probable cause, so this will be strictly surveillance—unless you can provide either of those.”

“If he gets out of the car, I’m taking him in for questioning on multiple murders.”

“You didn’t mention that earlier,” said Powell. “Dammit. This changes things.”

“I just need your officers to watch him. He’s not a public danger. I honestly believe the last thing he’d do is harm a civilian or a law enforcement officer. We’ll be all over him if he gets out of the car.”

“All right. What’s the description?”

“He’s in the front passenger seat of a silver Toyota Camry. Caucasian male. Short brown hair. Buzz cut. He’s wearing khaki pants and a light-blue oxford shirt. Untucked. Brown hiking boots.”

His radio squawked, but he missed the transmission.

“What was that?” said Reeves, elbowing Kincaid.

“He just put a ball cap on. They can’t tell what color.”

“Sergeant Powell? Sorry. I was just told he donned a ball cap.”

“I got it,” said Powell. “I’ll pass this along to all of my officers in all of the terminals and hold this line until you determine if he’s going for the departure or arrival level.”