He laughed at his once childishness, but still wondered what this year's line of White Stag tents looked like. He loved their current gear, but it would be nice to replace the aging green monster with something a little easier to haul around. After all, Julie had begun to like hiking more. With the child coming in six more months, they could get in a couple more good long hikes before her doctor got all huffy.
But then he noticed her come out the doors, her bright red blouse clearly discernible from this distance. As he watched her making way through the parked cars, his eyes swept over the Chrysler LeBaron parked about three rows ahead of him. Two guys were trying to look nonchalant as they fidgeted in their seats.
Brad's training from nights of patrol as a reserve officer in Portland's finest, made the men as "nervous for a reason" as his late partner Seargent David Schoolsly would have said. Reaching into the glove compartment, he pulled the .357 from its holster, and quickly pulled the keys from the ignition, unlocked the trigger guard, and replaced the keys. As Julie came up to the door, he began talking without taking his eyes off the door.
"Got two perps three rows up. Another one just shoved something under a pickup two rows up. I want you to give the truck lots of space, while you go back into the store and dial 911. It's 'Possible Bomb Threat, at GI Joe's'. Got it hon?"
He could hear Julie's gasp, as he was talking, and he waited for a few seconds before prompting her again.
"Ok. You be careful B.G."
"Always. Remember I'm a survivor, Hon. Now move your cute little buns. I got business here. As soon as you call it in, take security in the store by the hand and keep people away from the truck. Okay?"
"Okay" said the hushed voice, and he stole a second to look at his young pregnent wife, perhaps for the last time, as he said,
"I love ya, Hon. I promise to be careful. Now get the fuck outta here. I gotta move!"
She stepped back away from the truck as Brad gunned the motor to catch up a little on the sedate movement of the LeBaron. Then she ran for the office, following well given advice to stay away from the truck. For a moment she hesitated, watching someone walk right by it, but as nothing happened, she continued her dash to the doors of the biggest discount sporting goods store in the Portland area.
Pulling out onto Willamette Avenue, Brad followed the LeBaron discretely behind three other cars in the same lane. Picking up the microphone of his CB, he pushed in the channel nine button, and clicked the mic to check the power meter built into the S meter. Sure enough his little rig was putting out a full 5 watts.
"Channel nine, I've got a car full of trouble leaving GI Joe parking lot. Need React assistance like right now. Repeat need React now!"
In a moment a young female voice came on, a little nervous but understandable.
"This is react. Say again your situation."
"Uhhh darlin. This is Brad Gumshie, I spell G- George, U-Uniform, M-Mike, S-Sam, H-Harry, I-India, E- Edward. Gumshie. I am following a suspect on Willamette just now turning onto Baseline, heading West. Copy?"
"Copy you solid, Brad. Standby, I'm dialing Beaverton Police."
"Good girl", he said without pressing the mic button, hoping that Beaverton would listen to a seventeen year old girl.
In a moment she came back on, "Brad, this is React. Beaverton argued a little, but I told them that you'd be pissed as hell, and you sounded like a pretty mean fellow. They said don't do anything stupid, and that a unit will be dispatched soonest."
The young girl's voice came on almost immediately, "Now they say there are no cars in the vicinity, and they will advise. Hillsboro has cut loose with a unit and its coming down highway 6 to you. When you see the Hillsboro unit, turn on your flashers and headlights and they'll take your target for you."
"Right, and kill me in the process. Tell Hillsboro to wait at Intel and I'll pinpoint the bastards for them there, and they can take them from the side. 10-4?"
"Copy. Standby."
"The Sergeant says he thinks it will work and left the phone to talk to Hillsboro. You take it easy out their Brad. Your my first customer and I don't want to lose you so soon."
Brad winced at the fear in the young girl's voice, but also admired her courage for hanging in their and trying to keep him calm. What a trooper."
"You hang in there too, lady. Don't let anyone take the mic from you. Thanks for the pep talk. By the way, we made the light at Seventh, and we're moving on up to about sixty. Be at Aloha in just a few."
"Copy, Aloha in a few minutes. Standby."
"I ain't going no where but West, hon."
As he watched the LeBaron continue their sedate escape, he made sure there was still a few cars ahead of him, by slowing down just a bit. It suddenly occurred to him to buckle his shoulder harness. Juggling the steering wheel with his left knee, he reached over and unwound it enough to click it into the lock. Yanking it snug, he let out a little air and snugged it again, knowing full well that it might save his life in the next few minutes.
Ahead, the LeBaron crossed into the left lane, and passed a slower moving Audi, but Brad hung back a little until he and the cars he was directly behind moved over and around the slower car. Maintaining the cover well, he felt a rush of pride at being able to spot these guys. Then he heard a "Ka-Thump" and a cloud of smoke spit up into the sky behind and to hte left of him, the cloud clearly visible in the pickup's right side mirror.
"Jesus" he said and like all the cars in front, except for the LeBaron, he reflexively put on the brakes a little. Realizing his error in slowing down, he agonized as the traffic slowed behind the LeBaron, as it continued to pull away. But one fellow pulled out and Brad dutifully followed suit, now with only one car for cover now.
As they began the only curve in the road between Beaverton and Aloha, he pulled into the right lane and passed his cover car. He was only three minutes from Aloha now, and he began to close up to the LeBaron, if only at a few miles and hour difference. Hopefully the perps wouldn't remember the truck from the lot at GI Joe's.
"God, GI Joe's" he thought to himself, once again steeling a look in the right side mirror, but the curve had now oriented the truck so that mirror no longer viewed in the right direction. Craning forward he looked back at the left mirror and caught a glimpse of the now very black and very wide cloud of smoke.
"Jesus" he mouthed out loud, as the radio came to life again.
"Brad, React here. Good catch at GI Joe's. A bomb has gone off there. Three fatals, and some minor injuries from stuff flying around. The Sergeant says your wife is on the other phone to Beaverton PD, and she says stay cool. Hillsboro is waiting at Intel for you, make sure you get the headlights on before you get there."
"Roger, Copy that, lights on before we get there" he grimaced at that note too, since he couldn't remember how many street lights they would go through before they got to the Intel Aloha plant cross street.
But then he said, "Ah shit" out loud then keyed the mic as the LeBaron put on a signal light to turn right.
"He's turning right. Damn and I missed the name of the street. I am gonna be made here. He will have to know I'm following him, React."
"Copy, Standby".
"Sergeant says go ahead after him, we have no choice, just hang back some more. Let's not get them too worried."
"Right" he said, but knew it was near to impossible for someone running from a crime not to notice him now.
They slipped around another corner as they headed Northwest toward the freeway, and Brad felt an ugly feeling in his stomach. If they hit the Freeway and made it too much closer to Portland they would lose them. And he hadn't even got close enough to catch the license plate yet. "Damn!".
Then they turned right again, and Brad, knowing the streets a little in this area, took another street, and blasted down it to arrive at a crossroad ahead of the LeBaron. He hoped like hell some lady wasn't out to walk her dog in the middle of the residential, cuz he'd not be able to prevent his running her down at this speed.
"We're heading up towards the freeway, now. It's Davis Street, Copy that Davis Street?"
"Got it...Dav...Str..." was all he heard and he swore. They were getting out of range of the crummy CB shit. He wondered where his React girlfriend lived. In any case, he was on his own now, and had to make a quick decision. If he let them get up on the Freeway, they were as good as gone. If he tried to take them, they might pull out some heavy shit. After all, if they were able to set off that big an explosion, then they could surely pack some mean hardware as well. What had he got himself into? Who were these guys?
Pushing this aside, he began to imagine the rest of the road. There was driving range up there somewhere and some tennis courts next to it. If the image in his head were true, there was a long curve leading up to the tennis court parking lot, and a big light pole with a speed limit sign. Yep, he remembered it cuz it had a big hole some kid had shot into it with a shotgun. He never thought he would thank someone for doing that kind of shit, but in this case it helped give him the confidence to verify the picture in his mind's eye.
He formulated his plan quickly then, and pressed down on the accelerator. Thank the fates he had decided to buy a V-8 instead of that wimpy V-6 shit. He began to close on the LeBaron quickly now, knowing that one of these left hand curves would lead into that of the tennis court parking lot. Sure enough he spotted another familiar landmark, and he snugged his belt again as he floored the Chevy. With a leap, the truck ran right up next to the LeBaron, and he glanced over at the top of the car, not able to see down into it. Waiting, and hoping there was no oncoming traffic, he watched for the speed limit sign on the light standard.
Then he saw it ahead, and insuring there was no one in the parking lot, he took a deep breath and jerked the wheel over pushing the LeBaron off the road and up onto the small dividing strip between the tennis court parking lot and the main roadway. With a screech of tires, the and a swerve, the impact caused his truck to spin, and all he remembered was the horrible crunch as the LeBaron disappeared from sight, suddenly replaced with flying glass and a kind of red cloud. Then his own vision turned to black.
Fredricks scanned the report and sighed. Now Oregon. Three people dead, the bad guys all critical in the hospital, and the hero from GI Joe's in serious condition from a concussion and a broken arm. Thirty odd folks burned or nursing frag damage. Not a rosy picture to be sure. This was quickly getting out of hand.
"Coloma Six, Crystal Palace. Relay Message from Sierra. Fox Tango, Seven Three Two."
Fredricks made the proper adjustment to his satellite receiver, then again spoke the single phrase again, "Coloma Six."
"Jamison here. How many men you sending to Portland?"
"Uhh, none, Sir. I submit its just a diversion. And even if its not, I would bet it will be sporadic enough to reduce our need to be there. I advise we hang tough here."
"Well I hope you're right, Colonel. I'm getting one helluva lot of pressure. The honorable Senior Senator from Oregon just left my office a nervous and worried fellow. I don't like that kind of visit."
"Yes Sir, I understand, Sir. But as Field Commander, I just can't see pulling any of my forces yet. Besides, General. I have one of my hunches."
That elicited a short silence punctuated only by the strange low background noise of the enciphered satellite link.
"Okay, Colonel. It IS your call. Just hopin' your right. But keep some men on the ready to go up there if necessary. Okay?"
"I'll do better, Sir. Call Ft. Lewis. Have 'em send what's left of their Rangers over to Portland ANG. Then there'll be some backup if its needed. Also, get the Governer on the phone and have him move some ANG folks into key spots along I-5. That way they can cut off anyone trying to get outta the state real quick."
"Great. Already in the works. Thanks for confirming the idea. Jamison out."
"Confirming the idea..." thought Fredricks. That cagey old fox had already asked for local help, he was just fishing to see if he could scare up some talent from his own people to appease the Senator. Oh well, glad he wasn't so steeped in the politics as his boss.
He fired a coded message on the fold down keyboard to Ft. Lewis, letting Col. Sanchini know he was in the loop and also asked to be in the loop on any reports. That way he could jump in and help if anything did come outta the mess up there.