There was an ambulance far ahead of him. Franks killed the lights and siren.

He picked up the radio microphone. “This is Special Agent Franks of the Department of Homeland Security . . .” Which was the ID that he used the most often when forced to work with other agencies. “Convey the following to my agency. I have commandeered a police car and am in pursuit of the real shooter. Bravo seven seven delta green.” That authentication code would be enough to get this incident flagged at the highest levels. Then, even though it wouldn’t make a difference, he had to add “Stay out of my way.”

Closing quickly on the ambulance, Franks kept cars between them. His vehicle was shorter so hopefully they wouldn’t spot him and make a run for it. It was possible this was just another regular ambulance, but it was worth a shot. Franks nearly rear-ended a town car, then slingshotted past it to come up alongside the driver’s side of the speeding ambulance.

The flashing lights provided enough ambient illumination that Franks’ improved vision could easily make out the driver’s features. The face was familiar. He recognized the STFU man. Foster . . .

So this was a Task Force operation. This setup had Stricken’s stink all over it. Franks lifted the police officer’s Glock. To be fair, when they’d spoken in northern Nevada, Franks had warned Foster that the next STFU employee to annoy him would end up in a body bag. Shooting accurately from one moving vehicle to another was difficult in any case, but it was more difficult when you were also driving, but Franks aimed out the passenger side window and opened fire anyway.

Glass shattered. Blood splattered against the inside of the ambulance’s windshield. Franks kept on pulling the trigger as Foster jerked back and forth against his seat belt. Whoever was in the passenger seat grabbed hold of the wheel and they veered off to the side.

Applying the brakes, Franks turned hard and kept after them. The ambulance was ahead of him now. The Glock’s slide was locked back empty, so Franks dropped the mag and steered with his left hand while he put the pistol down and rummaged about on the seat until he found one of the stolen spare mags. He smacked it in, dropped the slide, brought the pistol up, put the sights into the vague middle of the ambulance and started shooting. The safety glass in front of him puckered into a crystalized mess. He could barely see. Both vehicles were weaving, so Franks made up for accuracy with volume, and he dumped the entire magazine within a few seconds.