Puller climbed back down. When his boots hit sand he grabbed Knox’s arm. “What’s

going on?” she said. “They’re transferring a ‘patient.’” “What patient?

Ballard?” “Not Ballard. Paul.” “You’re sure?” “I saw him.” They reached their

car as the SUV passed. Puller slipped in behind the other vehicle. “Where do you

think they’re taking him?” asked Knox. “We’re not going to find out.” “What!”

“Hold on.” Puller sped up, cut to the left, hit the gas, paralleled the SUV, and

rammed it with his car. “Shit, Puller!” exclaimed Knox as she grabbed a handhold

on the ceiling of the car.

 

The SUV veered over and rammed Puller’s car back.

 

The bumpers locked, which was what Puller had been hoping for.

 

He hit the brakes and forced the other vehicle to slow and then go off the road.

He slammed the car into park and jumped out, gun in one hand and his badge in

the other. “Federal officers, get out of the vehicle. Now!” Knox had emerged

from the passenger side and had her gun out too. “Now!” barked Puller. “Or we

will open fire. You are completely surrounded and we have a chopper coming in.”

The two front doors of the vehicle opened and two men got out, hands up.

 

Puller said, “On the ground, facedown, hands behind your head, fingers

interlocked. Do it. Now!” The men hit the dirt and did what he ordered.

 

Knox cleared the rest of the car. It was empty except for Rogers in the far

back.