| From: | Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Hunters and Hunted #5 |
| Date: | Tue, 15 Feb 2000 01:14:04 +0000 |
>>>>>[
"It's not the kill,
It's the thrill of the chase..."
+++++begin video
The helicopter is racing southwards, Lynch flying in classic wildman style:
where "VFR" means "Visually Follow the Roads" and "IFR"
stands for "I (still)
Follow Roads". Too low, too fast, too reckless... but he seems to be
happy, and hasn't crashed. Yet.
As he flies, maintaining bare clearance above the taller buildings (and
their masts and aerials, and the occasional crane, and...) he sings happily
to himself as he searches the roads for his quarry.
"Good Golly, said little Miss Molly
When she was rockin' in the house of blue light.
Tutti Frutti was _oh_ so rooty
When she was rockin' to the east and west
Lucille, was so real
When she didn't do her daddies will
Come on baby, drive me crazy
I'm a speed king
you go to hear me crazy,
I'm a speed king
see me fly - Talllyho, the fox!"
For indeed, he has a white Lupo in sight, half a mile ahead: slowing and
climbing, he settles into a careful trailing position. Far enough back not to
be obvious, close enough to follow most evasive gyrations.
"Glad you could join us." Lilith says with ironic humour. She's paralleling
Cesare's car on one side, the Interceptor two blocks away: Stephanie's
violently-colourful Scarab is covering the other side. Both are far too
distinctive to be used in any sort of covert pursuit.
On the other hand, both V-12's spotter drone and Lynch's helicopter can
play eye-in-the-sky, and Forged's blue Ford, Quinn's Dynamit and Harley's
UltraGlide are alternating trail duty on the ground. It won't last long - the
blood-red Dynamit in particular is too eyecatching not to draw attention
after a while - but so far the pursuit still remains covert.
"Okay, we hooked him, now how do we reel him in?" Quinn asks, turning
right and allowing Forged to close in a little.
"I thought Jason was the Man with the Plan?" Lilith responds.
"I was. No battle plan survives contact with the enemy, remember?"
"So fix it?"
"Nah. Let's just run the SOB into Puyallup and corral him there. Juli, we
need Traffic to close Highway 7 southbound from here to the Barrens."
Lynch says, cheerfully decisive.
"City Hall's gonna scream." Hart snorts. "Fuck'em. I'm on it. Four, five
minutes and we'll have most of the traffic gone. Won't be all..."
"Hey, those warning signs are there for a reason. Ignore'em, it's _your_
ass." Lynch quickly projects routes, times, distances on his map. "Okay,
we want to chase him onto the Interstate at... this junction. Can you get
some cop cars in place to channel him?"
"Doing it already. And I'll get a few units on the off-ramps, stop him
leaving while he's in Tacoma." Hart sounds purposeful, and happy. After
all, as the Lynches are wont to say... payback _is_ a motherfucker.
"He's getting jumpy." Quinn reports, as she picks up her turn of trailing
Cesare: even four cars back, the sleekly crimson Dynamit stands out in the
deluge of pastel Jackrabbits and subdued Americars that's Tacoma's
evening commute. "And I don't feel up to masking the car and driving at
the same time."
"We're nearly in the zone." Hart replies. "What the hell. Shall we spook
him?"
"A little." Lynch closes in a little, in case Cesare shakes his ground-bound
pursuit.
"Watch this." Traffic around Cesare's Lupo swerves and slows, as a Lone
Star 3220ZX patrol car appears behind him: sirens wailing and lights
strobing. The Lupo accelerates at once, Luciano's first reaction being to
flee this pursuit.
In other circumstances, a mistake: here, a wise move, except he's staying
with the wide four-lane road and trying to use the Lupo's acceleration to
escape. Hart's Chrysler-Nissan had a speed advantage to start with and
she's a trained pursuit driver: she stays with him, slowly closing (helped
because he's clearing the road for her, a maniac in a stolen sports car
scattering traffic even better than a cop car with full riot lights could).
And as he reaches an interchange, the news gets even worse. Lone Star
cruisers block two exits, and the third has a Jensen Interceptor and a
psychedelically-camouflaged Scarab emerging from it: Cesare reacts in
panic and heads for the only clear road, so temptingly wide and clear.
Onto Highway 7, temporarily cleared of its usual traffic (though the
gridlock spreading to the north is surely raising the blood pressure of
thousands of commuters). The warning signs flare with the "Leave the
carriageway AT ONCE!" symbol, and Cesare finds himself on clear, empty
highway.
Good news, letting him use the Lupo's superb engine, gearbox and chassis
to their full.
Bad news, because everything chasing him is just as fast (only Stephanie's
vivid Scarab is being left adrift in the chase). Even three Tacoma cruisers
and one motorcycle unit have joined the chase, if only because they saw
Hart's commandeered 3220ZX and followed a fellow officer.
Lynch gains a little altitude to watch the pursuit better. From his vantage,
it's easy to see Cesare turn and fire a couple of pistol shots at his
pursuers: and hastily abandon that idea, as he almost goes into the central
divider. Shooting and driving don't mix at triple-digit speeds...
"We've got him on the Interstate. Drive him off into Puyallup? The Five
Eyes lot would work." Lilith suggests.
"Sounds good to me." Lynch replies. "Juli, what can we get out of the
Barrens cops?"
"Not much. They're stretched too thin and too scared to pick sides.
Basically, they'll let us call it 'hot pursit' and stay out of our way." The
chase swings around an elevated curve, passing a startled motorist who'd
obviously decided that the order to leave the highway didn't mean _him_.
Cesare veers sharply towards an exit, then swerves sharply away as he
sees a Patrol-1 parked across it, blocking his escape.
"Good. Your friends there on our 'net?"
"No, but I can relay."
"Have them get ahead and block at Junction 32, and close the road to
herd him into the old Five Eyes." Lynch even sends Hart a suggested
deployment: ah, the wonders of Battletac...
"Gotcha. I assume you're going to slow him down some?"
"Juhztt a little." Lilith sounds happy. The four police cars accelerate to
pass Cesare: he swerves at the bike as it overtakes, but the policeman
countersteers away and opens distance rapidly, and Cesare's attention is
distracted by the black Interceptor ramming him from behind.
He wavers and slows, obviously shocked by this unexpected (and totally
outside the terms of police driver training) attack, and Lilith swings
alongside him and sideswipes him hard.
The Interceptor, heavily armoured and solidly built, barely seems to notice
the impact: the Lupo's whole side is crumpled and twisted, the composite-
fibre bodywork collapsing under the impact.
"That _had_ to hurt." Lilith sniggers, as Cesare accelerates away from the
threat (the white sports car does have some advantages over the
Interceptor... except Cesare lacks the skill or experience to properly
exploit them).
They flash past Junction 31, a Lone Star unit blocking it, and Hart reports
"Highway's closed. Herd him to the right as you get near here. We're
deploying to get him into the Five Eyes' lot."
"Got it." Lilith replies, already moving for another sideswipe: Cesare shies
away and Lilith follows, driving him almost onto the shoulder of the
highway as a police car's strobing lights show the highway is at least partly
blocked. As the slip road for Junction 32 comes up, blessedly clear (why
not, it's Puyallup...), Cesare flees down it, desperately glad to be off the
dangerously empty and exposed highway.
He has to make another desperate right turn, tyres smoking, as he sees
another roadblock but also another escape route... into the car park of a
burned-out motel, half-rebuilt and then abandoned again, with no easy
way out.
And Lynch - now less than a hundred yards behind and above Cesare's
battered Lupo - flicks on the Nightsun spotlight. Over two million
candlepower focussed into a near-parallel beam, aimed into the Lupo's
windows: a blindingly bright light, enough to ruin anyone's vision.
Cesare, knowing he can't see and that everywhere ahead is ferroconcrete,
can only slam on the brakes. On the road he might have risked it, hoped
the black helicopter would cut the lethal light before he ploughed into
civilians or noncombatants: but here, all he faces is dead concrete and he
has to choose between speed and life.
He chooses life, and hits a low concrete wall at less than forty miles an
hour: leaving black synthrubber all the way.
Luciano Cesare staggers out of his wrecked car, as vehicles skid to a halt
around him. Lynch keeps the helicopter's searchlight trained on him, a
horrible glare blinding and burning the mobster's eyes, as the Stallion
settles into a hover and kicks up a storm of dust and trash and wind.
Blood streaks his face and he clutches a pistol, a forgotten accessory.
Cesare crosses his arms around his head, trying to blot out the noise and
wind and dust of the helicopter, to hide from the noonday sun of its
searchlight. He looks around, seeing through watering glare-blind eyes only
a circle of hostile faces and raised weapons, and him alone and helpless at
the centre of it.
He drops his pistol, falls awkwardly to his knees.
Defeated.
Captured.
Beaten.
+++++end video
We got him.
Missed Malone, but we got two-thirds of the Caballeros and we caught
Cesare.
And Cesare may be willing to talk.
Hallelujah.]<<<<<
-- Major J R W Lynch <01:13:23/02-15-61>
Special Operations Command
