Mason pushed the chopper to its less-than-impressive top speed while Rapp examined a tractor-trailer hauling pipes on the road below. Less than a minute later, they buzzed another semi, this one pulling a trailer emblazoned with the logo of a fast-food company.
“You got something?” Coleman said, recognizing his expression from years of working together.
Rapp remained silent, craning his neck to keep eyes on Attia’s truck as it disappeared behind a rise.
• • •
“That one’s not going to work,” Rapp said, watching a tractor-trailer make its way up the steep slope they were hovering over. It was already more than a hundred yards into the climb and had barely slowed. Likely empty.
“We’ve still got the two we saw earlier,” Coleman said. “Fast food and pipes.”
Rapp nodded. “How’s our fuel, Fred?”
“We’ve got another forty minutes in the air. Thirty if you count the time it’ll take to get to our closest fuel stash.”
The semi with POLLO FELIZ painted on the trailer reached the bottom of the hill and immediately started losing speed. “That’s the one. Scott, what’s Attia’s ETA?”
“Call it just under five minutes.”
“And we’re still out of sight?”
“Yeah,” Mason said. “As long as we stay low, he won’t be able to see us until he crests that last rise.”
“Okay, then let’s do it.”
Mason dove toward the truck, coming to a stable hover about five feet off the ground and thirty feet in front of it. The driver reacted immediately, slamming on his brakes and sounding the horn. The steep grade combined with the weight of his trailer allowed him to bring the vehicle to a full stop in seconds.
Mason dropped the chopper to within a couple feet of the asphalt and Rapp jumped out. The driver watched what was happening through his dusty windshield, not even bothering to lock himself inside the cab as Rapp ran toward it. He undoubtedly assumed this was a cartel operation and figured that complete cooperation was his only hope for survival. No point in dying over a bunch of frozen chicken.
Rapp yanked the door open and dragged the man out before taking his place behind the wheel. He’d never driven a truck exactly like it, but had extensive experience piloting similar rigs in Iraq and Afghanistan. Finding first gear wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped, but once he did he was able to start the slow process of getting the loaded semi back up to speed. Mason climbed again and the truck’s driver retreated to the side of the road with his cell phone already against his ear. Not that it mattered. One way or another, this thing was going public.
In his side-view mirror, Rapp saw an off-road pickup rolling up fast behind him. It moved into the left lane and slowed, coming alongside. Bruno McGraw leaned over the empty passenger seat and shouted through his open window. “You okay, boss?”
“Yeah. Go forward. Find me a place to turn around.”
McGraw sped off as Rapp continued to push the semi’s motor to its limit. He was almost to fifteen miles an hour when he saw Attia barreling toward the base of the hill. He hit the slope at almost ninety miles an hour, but the effect of gravity became immediately evident. His speed began to plummet as he closed the distance to the trailer Rapp was towing. When there was about a hundred yards between them Attia pulled into the left lane to pass, probably still traveling ten miles an hour faster than Rapp. By the time he’d made it to within twenty yards, that speed differential was almost cut in half.
Rapp kept his eyes glued to his side mirror, waiting for Attia to close to with ten feet before swerving in front of him and hitting the brakes.
Contact was almost instantaneous. Rapp was thrown back in his seat but managed to keep his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the mirror. Attia, now aware of what was happening, tried to swerve back into the right lane, but Rapp followed the move, gearing down and feathering the brakes.
They swerved along the road for another ten seconds, slowing to four miles an hour before the pressure on the back of Rapp’s truck disappeared. Attia had applied his own brakes and disconnected from him.
An assault rifle appeared through the terrorist’s open window and Rapp’s side-view mirror exploded, spraying him with shattered glass. Attia continued to fire short bursts as he drifted left, managing to get a few rounds into Rapp’s cab and punch