| As the truck rolled to a stop on the right shoulder, the black sedan followed. Almost immediately, a tall detective exited from the vehicle and began the slow approach to Andrea. She had never been more frightened in her life. The man in the black and gray uniform gave a reassuring tap to his weapon, mumbled something into the radio attached to his collar, and walked past her rear bumper. She slowly brushed her hand over the right side of her jeans, felt the 9mm pistol she placed there while packing, and prayed to God she wouldn’t have to use it. “Good afternoon. I’m Detective Andrews from the Security Department. How are you today?” The young man delivered his greeting straight from the textbook, with proper tone, inflection, and clarity. Without hesitating, she fired back the typical response, and finished with an uncommon “How can I help you today?” Surprised for a millisecond at her forthcoming answer, the detective got directly to the point. “Ma’am, I noticed a few miles back that your left brake light is out. Are you aware of that?” Signaling she was not, the SD man continued, “Can I see your CID please?” Andrea reached into her glove compartment and slowly retrieved her national ID card, handing it to Detective Andrews. He asked her to sit tight, and slowly walked back to his sedan to look at her database files, checking her national, regional, and global registration and insurance records. Andrea could not detect what angle this man was coming from. A million thoughts were running through her mind. If he were taking her into custody, he would have made sure the backup was there before approaching the vehicle. After all, why give anyone a chance to run? Instead, he seemed to be deliberately taking his time with the whole matter, almost daring her to take off. Also, why would a detective be out making petty traffic stops? That duty was reserved for the officers in blue. Perhaps he had gathered enough of a paper trail about her to make a bust? But if so, why would he not just surround her apartment with the SWAT personnel and make the arrest in the middle of the night, a la standard SD procedure? Taking quick glances at her rear-view mirror, she noticed the detective finishing up his computer work, and making his move back towards her damaged brake light. As he was inspecting for further damage, the woman slowly moved her right hand over her jeans again, making sure she would be able to draw the gun if things went awry. If he discovered the food and supplies under the truck, she would have to either run or shoot him. Unfortunately, neither option seemed likely to end in success. Walking back towards Andrea’s door, Detective Andrews gave a wide smile. “Ms. Jackson, as you know, this isn’t exactly my job description.” His smile continued, “But my superiors have been stressing the importance of law and order for the upcoming visit by the EU President. We want Houston to put its best foot forward, especially since the eyes of the world will be upon us. But we also want the city to keep on moving, so I’m going to let you off with a warning.” He continued to smile broadly, but said nothing, waiting for a reply of some sort. “Thank you so much detective! I’ll be sure to get it fixed tomorrow.” Andrea sickened even herself with the over-sweet tone of her answer, but it had to be done. Not a thing could seem out of place, or the man would become suspicious and begin asking questions, something she could not afford. Seeing the man’s chest puff out even further, she braced herself for a display of ‘aw shucks’ machismo. Surprisingly, none was forthcoming. “Just be sure to get it fixed before the week’s over. Have a nice day.” With that, the detective turned away and began walking back to his car. Feeling greatly relieved, Andrea shifted the truck back into drive and pulled off the shoulder, back onto the highway. Gazing at the rear view mirror, she watched the detective and his sedan shrink in the background. Understanding she had dodged a bullet, she began making plans to deposit her supplies and to dump the truck and get a new vehicle as quickly as possible. She could not afford another close call like that in the future. The movement could not afford such a close call in the future. Moving back to his black sedan, Roger grinned like never before. After quickly chiding himself for being a bit too nice to the woman, his smile reappeared. Taking a seat in his car, he flipped the screen of his on- board computer open and began opening and initiating several new files and actions. Thankfully, the city had made some sweet deals with the United Nations, allowing them access to advanced technologies in exchange for increased cooperation. One such deal was the use of the latest GPS tracking devices. The latest advances made it possible for nearly any object to be fitted with a tracker the size of a period at the end of a sentence, which would allow said object to be located anywhere in the world within a few feet via satellite. The detective had slipped one onto the back of the woman’s truck, one into an item in her hidden compartment, and another on her CID card. Of course he could have busted her for some petty food and perhaps weapons violations, but why settle? She was going to lead him to masses of arms, scores of rebels, and perhaps even the leaders of the resistance movement. But not yet. These things take time. For once, Roger would be patient, and allow the work to be done for him. All I have to do is gather the harvest, and reap the rewards. All in good time. All in good time. |
| Roger Andrews: The New American Hero - Part IV By Kevin Newsom As she neared her apartment outside the downtown zone, she noticed a black sedan approaching the truck rapidly, and immediately her heart began racing. The only people allowed to drive such cars were SD persons of high rank. Praying he (or was it she?) would pass her by, Andrea maintained speed and stayed within the lines. To no avail, the black SD sedan began flashing the blue lights and signaling for the young woman to pull over. |
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