"Status on the package?" Vance asked, looking toward the lead operator.
"Vanguard has slowed the pace," the lead operator replied, his finger resting just outside the trigger guard of his rifle. "We have a sixty-second gap before the limousines reach this underpass. Is this intersection secure, Agent?"
Vance looked at the Dodge Charger, still running, still blocking the shoulder but leaving the ramp dangerously open. He looked at Miller, who was now backed against the side of his SUV, completely neutralized by fear.
"It is now," Vance said. He walked over to his Charger, slid into the driver’s seat, and threw it into reverse. The heavy engine revved as he swung the sedan back into its original perpendicular position, sealing the ramp with two tons of steel. The federal strobes flashed relentlessly, painting the concrete barricades in harsh red and blue light.
Chapter 10: The Beast Passes
Vance stepped out of the Charger, rolling his injured shoulder. He tapped his earpiece, grateful that the receiver block on his belt was still functioning, even without the microphone.
"Command, CAT Actual," the lead operator spoke into his own collar microphone. "The choke point at Gallows Road is re-secured. Route Control Agent is recovered and operational. Local threat is disarmed and detained. You are clear to proceed."
"Copy that, CAT Actual. Package is pushing through."
The vibration in the concrete under their feet intensified, returning to its deafening roar. Vance walked to the edge of the overpass, leaning over the concrete barrier to look down at Interstate 66.
The main body of the motorcade was arriving. It was an awe-inspiring display of coordinated momentum. Dozens of police motorcycles swept past in a flawless wedge, their sirens perfectly synchronized. Behind them came the high-speed communications vans, the electronic countermeasures vehicles resembling porcupines with their bristling antennas, and the local command vehicles.
And then, moving with heavy, armored grace, came the twin Cadillac limousines. The Beast.
They glided beneath the overpass at sixty miles per hour, utterly isolated from the chaos that had just unfolded thirty feet above them. The flags mounted on the fenders snapped in the wind, a symbol of the immense weight of the office they protected. In the span of twenty seconds, the core of the motorcade had passed safely through Sector Four.
Vance let out a long, slow breath. The disaster had been averted, but the margin of safety had been razor-thin.
Chapter 11: Reclaiming the Badge
With the President safely out of the immediate kill zone, the intense, combat-ready posture of the CAT operators shifted subtly. The rifles were lowered slightly, the laser sights clicking off, but the men remained in a tactical perimeter around Miller.
Vance turned away from the overpass and walked directly toward the Fairfax County officer. Miller looked pale, his chest heaving, the arrogant swagger completely evaporated. He was realizing the magnitude of his error, the crushing weight of the federal apparatus he had blindly challenged.
Vance did not raise his voice. He didn't need to. "My credentials are in that puddle, Officer."
Miller swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the wet asphalt where Vance’s leather wallet lay face down in the grimy water. Slowly, rigidly, Miller bent down and picked it up. He wiped the dirty water off the gold seal with his thumb, his hands still trembling. He handed it back to Vance, unable to meet the agent's eyes.
Vance took the wet leather case and slipped it into his chest pocket. "Now, give me back my weapon."
Miller hesitated, his hand hovering over his tactical cargo pocket. He was acutely aware of the four heavily armed operators watching his every twitch. Very carefully, using only two fingers, Miller reached into his pocket and extracted Vance’s Glock 19. He held it out, grip first.
Vance took his sidearm, checked the chamber, and slid it back into his holster, snapping the retention strap securely. The familiar weight on his hip grounded him.
"You had a mechanical failure on your radio, you had a mechanical failure on your brain, and you abandoned a post to play cowboy in traffic," Vance said, his voice cold and analytical. "You assaulted a federal agent, stole a federal weapon, and compromised a National Special Security Event perimeter. Do you have any concept of what is about to happen to your life?"
Miller opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He simply stared at the pavement.
Chapter 12: The Fall Back
The radio on the lead CAT operator's shoulder squawked. "CAT Actual, Vanguard is clear of Sector Five. We are holding a gap for your re-entry."
"Copy, Command. Breaking off," the lead operator replied. He turned to Vance. "Agent, the ramp is yours. Can you hold it until the tail end passes?"
"I’ve got it," Vance nodded. "Go. Rejoin the package."
The operators didn't waste a single wasted motion. They fell back, perfectly covering each other's sectors of fire until they reached the open doors of the black Suburbans. They folded themselves into the massive vehicles, slamming the armored doors shut. The engines roared, and the SUVs threw it into reverse, smoothly backing down the on-ramp, executing a flawless J-turn at the bottom, and accelerating down the highway to catch up with the President.
In an instant, the overwhelming force of the Secret Service was gone, leaving only the humid Virginia air, the flashing strobes of the barricade, and two men standing on the asphalt.
Vance walked back to his Charger. He reached inside, grabbed a spare microphone cable from his center console, and quickly swapped it out, reconnecting his wrist mic to his belt receiver.
"Command, Vance. Comms re-established. Ramp is secure. Requesting local Fairfax County shift supervisors and Internal Affairs to my location immediately. Code Red."
"Copy, Vance. Supervisors are rolling. Tail of the motorcade is passing Mile Marker 45. You are cleared to break down the perimeter in five minutes."
Chapter 13: Supervisors on Scene