Patrick McLanahan #09 - Warrior Class by Dale Brown

Author:Dale Brown [Brown, Dale]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0399147144
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
Published: 2001-05-15T04:00:00+00:00

Briggs used his electronic visor to scan every vehicle. Traffic was starting to get busy as they got closer to town, so everyone was slowing down together. There were no militarylooking vehicles apparent.

"Annie, this is Hal secure," Briggs radioed. "Don't answer. I can't see your vehicle. I need you to do something to distract the driver and make him swerve or slow down or pull off the road. Scream, throw a tantrum, swear, anything. We're just a few seconds out."

"Two miles. You got them yet, Hal?"

"Nothing. Every vehicle was in line. No one pulled off the' road, no one swerved, no one sped up or slowed down."

"One mile," Luger reported. "Distance and speed are getting more unreliable, guys. The system just isn't precise enough to give you an exact bead on them. See anything?"

"Nothing. Nothing that looks like a prisoner transport, or a military vehicle, or anything unusual at all. A few buses, a bunch of station wagons, a bunch of minivans."

"Then we'll have to do it the hard way," Chris Wohl said. "Rotate left, translate sideways." As the pilot turned the big chopper so it was flying sideways down the highway, Wohl leaned out the starboard side cargo door, raised his rail gun, aimed, and fired. Both dual left rear tires of a large passenger bus exploded. The bus swerved left, blocking the highway and stopping traffic. "Make a low pass over the stopped cars, and keep an eye out for a response."

It did not take long at all. From a large but otherwise plain black sedan, very much like dozens of others on the highway, Briggs saw a soldier in camouflaged battle-dress uniform emerge with an AK-74 assault rifle in his hands, staring at the low-flying helicopter.

"Tally-ho!" Briggs shouted. "There's suspect number one! You got him covered, Sarge?

Don't let him get a shot off at our ride."

"Roger," Wohl responded. He already had the gunman in his sights, and Briggs hoped he wouldn't pull the trigger-a human body shot with a blunt one-pound projectile traveling over three thousand feet per second would burst apart like an overripe melon.

Briggs didn't wait for the helicopter to hover or position itself near the suspect vehicle-he simply ran to the open portside cargo door and leaped out, with the helicopter still over a hundred feet in the air and flying about thirty miles an hour. A fraction of a second before his feet hit the pavement, a burst of jet propellant from

his boots softened Wis fall. Another blast of propellant flung Briggs through the air, and he landed right beside the flabbergasted gunman. A lightning burst of electrical energy from an electrode dropped the startled gunman before he could even think about leveling his rifle.

The windows in the sedan were inch-thick bulletproof glass, but they were no match for the electronically controlled armor that turned Briggs's fists into battering rams. He cracked open the left rear window first and peered inside. The moment he saw two passengers wearing HAWC black flight suits inside, he raced into action.

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