“Baker 12, this is Annapolis Center,” Mark’s radio barked as he maneuvered his car to within 20 feet of his suspect.
“This is Baker 12, come in Annapolis Center,” Mark said in response.
“We have no back-up for you Baker 12—there is a major accident on Route 495 with two people killed. We have moved all available resources into the area for traffic duty. You are advised to proceed with caution. I can alert the DC police if chase proceeds into their jurisdiction. Sorry Baker 12.”
Mark Lipatree could only shake his head. He was on his own. As he drove closer, Mark noticed a Police Association decal on the truck’s cabin window. This guys a cop? He despised pulling over fellow officers — especially ones who had been drinking or involved in a domestic dispute. The badge would come out as if it were some magical ticket to freedom and then a weapon would most likely be shown next.
Looking in his rear view mirror, Peter could see the police officer moving into position. He needed a diversion. Peter accelerated to 85 miles per hour before swerving into the right lane, tapping a car’s rear bumper, causing the car to swerve into another lane where it was promptly rammed by a truck.
Mark narrowly missed hitting the truck as he matched Peters every move, settling back once more behind Peters truck.
Peter knew the police in the United States had orders to break off high-speed pursuits, he decided to take advantage of the liberal law. Pushing the accelerator down to the floor, he quickly reached 100 miles per hour. He swerved into the lanes on either side of him before settling into the right hand lane.
Mark was following Peter to the best of his ability, trying to avoid being the cause of another traffic accident. He decided to move across two lanes of heavy traffic and then into the emergency lane. This allowed him to avoid the burden of traffic and move up alongside Peter.
“Will the driver in the truck, slow down and pull over,” Mark ordered over his loudspeaker. “Don’t make this any worse than it has to be.”
Peter leaned over to his right hand side to look down at the police cruiser before extending his middle finger. Using the truck as a weapon, Peter veered to his right, slamming into the police cruiser’s driver’s side door, causing the car to swerve up a grassy bank before correcting its path and veering back onto the emergency strip.
Once back on the road, Mark eased to the right and the rear of the truck, positioning himself for a tip maneuver he had learned in his Police offensive driving class only weeks before. Increasing his speed, Mark bumped his vehicle into the trucks rear quarter panel, causing it to swerve from right to left and then back again. As Peter tried to regain control, Mark pulled ahead and tossed a nail studded “road stopper” out his window and into his trucks path.
Peter saw the officer throw something out his window, unable to avoid it, he drove over it. He suddenly heard two loud,pops — his steering capability degraded dramatically with both tires on the right hand side now flat. Peter steered over to the emergency lane — sparks flying from underneath the truck. He had no choice but to stop. Now he had to pick the spot to make a stand.
The truck coasted to a stop underneath a roadway overpass. Peter looked in his rearview mirror to see the police cruiser pull in 20 feet behind him.
Peter removed the 9mm from his waistband.
Mark sat in his police cruiser mentally reviewing his own status — bulletproof vest, weapon loaded, pepper spray. Within a minute, his in-car computer produced a printout of the vehicle’s owner. Looking over the information, Mark noted that this guy never had so much as a parking ticket. But there’s always the possibility it was stolen and not reported yet. Just to be on the safe side, Mark unsnapped the top of his leather holster, freeing his weapon for easier access as he opened his door.
Approaching the 2nd minute since his forced stop, Peter was anxious. He realized that if the police officer received any kind of assistance, his mission would be over. Peter knew he could take care of one or two, but not the possibility of three or four police officers responding to his call. Sitting on the side of the road made him the proverbial dead duck. Fingering his 9mm, he needed to make a move and fast. Opening his door with weapon in hand, Peter jumped to the asphalt roadway just as the police officer was exiting his cruiser.
Both seemed stunned for an instant, looking at each other as if in some macabre western gunfight. Peter had the advantage with his weapon already out.
Mark cursed loudly when he saw Peter with a gun in his hand. “I’m a Police Officer— drop the weapon — now!”
Peter fired first, hitting the driver’s side door that Mark was using as cover.
Mark responded with 3 shots in quick succession, the first hitting and shattering the driver’s side window that Peter stood in front of. The second and third bullets imbedded themselves in the doors steel cross ties.
Peter sought shelter in front of his truck, maneuvering around the still open driver side door and wildly firing 2 shots in the general direction of Mark to cover his run.
Mark cowered behind his cruisers door for cover as two more bullets flew harmlessly over his head.
Mark reached for his radio while scouting for Peter, seeing him ducking in front of his truck, using the engine block for cover no doubt. He must have some type of military training because anyone else would have run by now, making himself a potential target. This guy is going to stay and fight.
“This is Baker 12, repeat, this is Baker 12. Officer needs immediate assistance. Shots fired, repeat, shots fired. Highway 50, mile marker 30. Suspect is still armed.”
“Baker 12 this is Annapolis base, I read you loud and clear. I have 3 vehicles on their way. ETA is 3 minutes. Repeat, ETA is 3 minutes.”
Mark dashed out from behind his temporary cover of his vehicles door, moving to the rear of the suspect’s truck. “Roger that Annapolis, 3 minutes,” Mark replied. He lay down on the road to look under the truck. With the truck providing a 2-foot clearance from the ground to its frame, Mark viewed Peter’s feet as he paced back and forth as if a caged animal searching for its master.
Mark took careful aim at Peter’s exposed right foot, squeezing off two shots from his standard issue Beretta, hitting the wheel rim on the first shot and grazing Peter’s foot with the second. Peter fell to his knees in pain, now on the ground in full view. Mark yelled for him to once again drop his weapon, taking careful aim, both hands on his weapon.
Peter could see the police officer pointing his weapon directly at him. Looking at his own wound he could see the bullet had just grazed him, nothing that should keep him from walking or running if need be. Peter assumed a runners start position with his weapon in his right hand flat on the ground. Looking back at the officer and then at this weapon. In one brief second, Peter made the rash decision to bring his weapon to bear and fire. Not taking time to aim, he emptied his clip by shooting under the truck towards where Mark lay on his stomach. Five of the six bullets hit the roads asphalt and ricocheted harmlessly up into the trucks rear cab. The sixth managed to hit Mark square in the chest, forcefully pushing his body up and slamming him into the trucks rear bumper, knocking him unconscious.
Peter ejected the empty clip onto the highways hot asphalt, withdrawing a new clip from his waistband before professionally inserting it into its rightful place. Quickly looking under truck, his weapon ready for action, Peter noticed the officer lying sprawled on his back. Peter carefully made his way to where Mark lay in the rear of the vehicle. Holding his 9mm in front of him, both hands locked together as instructed. He carefully peered around the trucks rear panel before seeing that the officer was indeed dead. Moving over to where he could stand over the fallen officer, kicking him once before prying the Officers 9mm from his hands.