Flynn had come so close to arresting him.
But now, as the brand-new Lexus rounded the first corner — and out of sight — the veteran FBI agent began to panic.
“Let’s move!” he yelled.
The group of agents piled into the SUVs and chased after them. A few seconds later, they could see the Lexus, racing through the streets of D.C.
Flynn rode shotgun. “There! They just took a turn.”
“I got ’em, I got ’em.”
He flipped on the blue light and siren and called it in to the D.C. police and US Secret Service, since they were driving right near the White House.
“Suspect is a white male, about six feet tall, medium build. Driving a maroon Lexus sedan… now turning onto…”
“Constitution,” the other agent said.
“Constitution Avenue. Request immediate backup and pursuit.”
The D.C. dispatcher relayed the message, and the Washington streets came alive with police and federal agencies. Two minutes later, a Maryland State Police helicopter was en route.
Flynn smiled.
What a piece of work. Who the hell thinks he can run from the FBI in the middle of Washington, D.C.?
Max was pressed back into his seat at the unexpected acceleration.
The lawyer glanced in his rearview mirror as he drove.
“Who are you?”
“That’s not important. This is: don’t let yourself be taken into custody again, understand? They might not have enough to arrest you with right now, but they will. That’s what I’m being told.”
“Told by whom?”
He didn’t answer.
The Lexus’s engine roared as the driver swerved through the busy D.C. traffic. Max held on to the door handle and his seat, tensing his legs against the floor for stability. He could see blue flashing lights both in front of and behind them.
His body jerked to the right as the driver took a hard left turn on Fourteenth Street.
“Why is someone trying to set me up?”
“We don’t know yet.”
The driver reached in the backseat and threw a small backpack on Max’s lap. “Here. Put this jacket on. Make sure you leave your phone and any electronic devices in this vehicle. You know the drill.” The man smiled.
With the smile was an unspoken acknowledgment that he knew about Max’s background.
“Got it,” Max said, a twinge of apprehension in his voice.
He unzipped the backpack. Two phones. A gun, with several magazines taped together. A Ziploc bag filled with cash, prepaid debit cards, and false IDs. All with Max’s face. He examined one of them. It was quality work. Must have taken a while. How long had they been planning this?
The driver took a hard right on Constitution Ave. The Washington Monument was out the left side of the window now. The speedometer read over eighty miles per hour, the slow-moving traffic whipping by as the sedan zigged and zagged in between lanes.
He was a good driver. But also a little lucky. They barely missed hitting a woman crossing the street. She had been looking down at her cell phone.
“Put this on.”
The man handed Max a large black motorcycle helmet. Tinted visor. Max did as he instructed.
By the time they took the circle around the Lincoln Memorial, the police cars were pretty far behind them. But Max wasn’t worried about the ones behind them. He could see blue flashing lights and halted traffic on the bridge crossing the Potomac.
Max said, “Tell me you aren’t going for one of the bridges.”
“Not yet.”
The Lexus swerved around the circle and jerked to the right, going off the road at over fifty miles per hour.
“Wait,” Max said, realizing where they were going.
The ground in front of them dropped off into a steep incline. Max couldn’t see what was beyond.
“Hey… wait…”
It looked like they were about to go off a steep drop-off in the road, heading towards the Potomac.
“Hold on,” said the driver.
The Lexus launched over the long concrete set of stairs that led down to Ohio Drive, twenty feet below. The sedan crunched into the bottom of the stone steps and skidded into the ground as the driver turned left and braked.
It wasn’t enough to stop the collision. They hit a Mercedes sedan first. Sideswiped it while going about thirty-five miles per hour. Max jolted around in his seat. He clenched his teeth so that he wouldn’t bite his tongue in the crash. Another car bumped them from behind, its driver pumping her fist.
Drivers slammed on their horns as the Lexus momentarily came to a halt. The man in the Mercedes started to get out of his car, furious and swearing. But Max’s driver just put his car in reverse and backed up a few feet, shoveling the car to the rear. It cleared enough space for them to break free. He drove forward, leaving the angry drivers behind.
They raced to a spot only fifty yards away, under the bridge.
“Alright, listen up. You have a heads-up display on the inside of your helmet. Do you understand what that is?”
Max couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Yes.”
“It’s going to project turn-by-turn navigation onto your visor. That will tell you where you’re supposed to go. The other bikes are going to leave you and rejoin you at various spots. That will ensure that you can’t be followed.”
“Other bikes?”
“Yeah. Now get out.”
Max opened his door and stepped out under the overpass formed by the Arlington Memorial Bridge. The Lincoln Memorial was just behind them. Cars’ tires thumping overhead on the bridge.
He now wore the black leather jacket and a black motorcycle helmet, visor down. The sedan driver was dressed the same. So were two others, already waiting in the shadows of the bridge. They straddled identical black Ducati motorcycles.
Max’s heart beat faster as he saw the two empty bikes.
One of the bikers yelled, “Bloody hurry up. We’ve only got a few seconds before the police arrive. Whatever you do, make sure you keep up.”
The Maryland State Police helicopter flew over the Potomac just as the Lexus barreled into traffic.
The pilot looked down through his chin bubble — the glass window by his feet. “That’s them, right?”
The copilot said, “Looks like it. Idiot just wrecked his car, and he’s still not stopping.”
“Can’t see him anymore. He just drove under the bridge tunnel. Hold on, I’m coming around left.”
“Roger, coming left.”
As they maneuvered, four black motorcycles shot out from underneath the bridge and began speeding down the road that paralleled the Potomac River.
“You see that?” said the pilot. He stayed over the river, turning the aircraft to follow the motorcycles.
“Yeah. Those guys are really moving,” said the copilot.
The pilot said into his radio, “Dispatch, Maryland State Helicopter 223 is just west of the Lincoln Memorial. We have four black motorcycles heading north at over seventy miles per hour and are pursuing them. Recommend—”
“Hey, they just took the exit…”
The pilot watched as three of the bikes took the bridge. But one of the motorcycles continued heading west.
“Shit. Now what do we do?”
“I’m following the three. We’ll stick with the group and see if we can get a squad car to follow the other.” Dozens of blue lights were converging on the scene. The pilot veered left to stay over the group of three racing bikes.
“Dispatch, Maryland Helicopter 223… one of the motorcycles is now headed west on Ohio Road, but three of them have taken the Roosevelt Bridge and are now on… uh… stand by…”