Looking back, the Officer had his clothes in hand.
“Drop them at your feet and take ten paces backward and no one will get hurt.”
“Come on buddy,” he said. He hid a canister of pepper spray in his hand under the clothes. “I’m standing here in my damn underwear. What the hell could I do to you?” He tried to entice Peter to come within range of the spray, the effective range being only eight feet with Peter now about 15 feet from the Officer.
“Just take the clothes, would you? He held them at arm’s length as he started to walk closer to Peter’s position at the door.
“Stay where you are. One more step and you’ll be a dead man,” Peter said, aiming his weapon at the officer.
The Officercould see the man meant business, dropping the clothes to the floor with the pepper spray at the bottom of the pile — the canister providing a dull metallic thud as it hit the marble floor.
Walking over to pile of clothing, Peter reached down to remove the Officers handcuffs from his uniform belt. “Turn around and walk towards the front desk.”
Officer Maddox followed his demands, proceeding to the front desk. Peter took the handcuffs and attached them to a brass foot bar at the base of the check-in desk and then to the Officers left wrist.
“This should hold you until I can get away,” Peter said. He walked over to the pile of clothes and started to undress and exchange them for his own. After several minutes, Peter placed the officer’s hat upon his head completing the transformation, resembling a newly minted Washington DC Police Officer, the only exception being the pants being too big around the waist.
“You should go on a diet,” he said, holding the pants out before tightening the belt to pull them in.
“Yah, I’ll take that under consideration,” said Officer Maddox. He looked embarrassed as he stood in his boxer shorts against the front desk.
Walking over to the front door, Peter focused the binoculars on the helicopter then back to the group of people meeting before the Red Cross building. Applying additional magnification, he refocused in on the people in the group.
“You bastard!” Peter said loudly. He viewed Boris, Wendy and Mark in the group talking to an FBI agent. “I thought Boris was a true patriot,” focusing in on his face and seeing the bruises that were now visible and then noticing the handcuffs. He quickly changed his mind. “No, they made him talk. Sorry my Russian friend, but it looks like you will be serving a long prison sentence.”
This situation was now compromised. That was easy enough to rationalize. Peter had to reach Philadelphia before the next weapon was moved into protective custody. If under duress, Boris might reveal the plan for his own entry into Philadelphia to lessen his sentence. Peter needed to think fast. It was a matter of pure survival — his own. Focusing the binoculars back to the helicopter, Peter could see that it was still running and evidently waiting for someone. Shifting his gaze 100 meters ahead of the helicopter, he saw a police officer walking a post pattern as if on guard duty. Peter looked down at his uniform then back out the door to the waiting helicopter.
“I would like you to meet, Boris,” Forsythe said to Wendy and Mark. “He is one of the gentlemen responsible for all of today’s actions. You have him to thank for your unfortunate predicaments.”
Wendy and Mark both eyed Boris as if he were the devil himself. Wendy walked up and kicked him in the shins before Forsythe and Mark could restrain her.
“Please, miss,” Forsythe said as he held Wendy from behind, her legs still lashing out in defiance to Boris. “The three of you will be working together.”
“I’m not working with him,” Wendy replied, her eyes burning with rage.
“What I require from you right now is teamwork until we catch this guy,” Forsythe said, turning her around to face him. “Now calm down little lady, we don’t have much time,” waiting until she closed her eyes and started to tear up, the rage still building.
The woman police officer that held Boris by the arm noticed a fellow officer walking across the Mall towards where the helicopter was running. Thinking something was amiss she reached for her radio to place a call to her supervisor.
“Charlie this is Carol, can you tell me if we have someone patrolling the east side of the mall across from the White House?”
Overhearing her radio call, Forsythe turned around to see what she was talking about, seeing a police officer only feet from the helicopter, holding his hat against the rotors forceful winds. “What’s the hell’s going on there? He said aloud.
Wendy and Mark turned to see the police officer by the helicopter reach up for the door, letting go of his hat in order to do so, providing them a full view of the police officer’s true identity when his hat blew off.
“Oh my, God,” Wendy said, letting out a scream. “That’s him! That’s the man who stole my car and beat me up!” She now pointed to the man entering the helicopter.
Mark had the same thought as he joined Forsythe in running towards the helicopter, weapons at the ready.
“We have the SOB.”
Peter felt exposed, almost naked, as he walked across the street and up onto the Washington Mall, proceeding towards the helicopter. Looking straight ahead and keeping his focus on the helicopter Peter could fell the adrenaline flowing through his veins, providing him with a powerful rush.
Not taking any chances, Peter sprinted the remaining distance reaching the helicopter’s door as the whole crowd turned to look at him.
Thrusting himself into the helicopter, Peter quickly placed his gun to Jimmy’s head before he could respond with his own weapon. “Get this bird into the air in 2 seconds flat or you are a dead man,” Peter said, pressing the cold steel in to the base of his skull.
“You got it boss,” Jimmy responded, trying to stall a bit, seeing Forsythe running to his aid. “I just need to trim the blades for a few….”
Peter cut him off by firing a bullet through the co-pilots portion of the windshield before pointing the weapon back at Jimmy. “I said now!”
The helicopter lifted off just over the heads of Mark and Forsythe as they pointed their weapons skyward wanting to shoot but knowing that an agent was on board.
“Damn it,” Forsythe said, running back to where Boris was standing, still smiling. “You know something, now spill it.”
Boris nodded, feeling the situation having changed dramatically in his favor, holding up his hands to be uncuffed.
“Michael, can we now make that deal?”
“Uncuff him,” Forsythe ordered, knowing he would eventually regret his decision.
“You will fly at 1,000 feet,” Peter said, his free hand frisking the FBI pilot before relieving the pilot of his standard issue 9mm, placing it on the seat beside him in the back. “You will maintain a northeast direction until you see Highway 95, you will then follow that route north,” Peter ordered. “No sudden deviations.”
“Come on boy, what do you think you’re going to accomplish?” Jimmy said, wondering what the hell was going on. “Why don’t we set this bird down and have ourselves a little talk and see if we can resolve whatever issue is bothering you.”
Peter responded by reaching over Jimmy and turning off his helicopters transponder, which would have allowed air traffic controllers to follow the helicopters path and thereby direct assistance to Jimmy. He then pulled the radio mike off of Jimmy’s head, cutting off any chance of Jimmy secretly allowing the air traffic controllers to monitor what was being said, possibly providing them clues of what direction he was flying.
“I don’t want you to say another word for the duration of this flight,” Peter replied angrily, firing another shot through the co-pilots window for emphasis, the guns noise in the close confines of the cockpit deafening. The bullets trajectory closely followed the first, allowing the cool air to now flow freely through the two small bullet holes in the windshield.