Troubleshooters (Jackson Chase Novella Book 2) by Connor Black Page B

bounced off the van and landed hard on the street, where I was hammered by a torrent of Swahili from the driver and conductor.
    I ignored them as I popped to my feet. Naseeb had disentangled his Land Cruiser from the collision and was now pulling away. My choices were limited. Any port in a storm, I guess.
    “Everyone out!” I shouted at the driver and passengers of the small van, raising my weapon for emphasis. “Now!” As the passenger doors slid back, I noticed that the branding this particular dala dala used was a thick green stripe and the name Quran in a decorative Middle Eastern typeface. How ironic.
    Half a dozen locals piled out, their eyes wide with fear. The driver got out as I ran around the front of the vehicle.
    “Call the police,” I instructed. He nodded in reply, his mouth open in shock but silent. “Let them know that I am in your van, chasing Naseeb Aman. Got that?” He nodded again as I hopped into the driver’s seat.
    “Repeat it.”
    He did, and I put the little van into gear and tore off. I looked up in time to see Naseeb’s black Land Cruiser stop. A figure fell out: the unconscious driver. The vehicle immediately got underway, and turned right just over a block ahead.
    As I revved up through each gear and weaved between cars, people, and small animals, it became apparent that I had not chosen the ideal chase vehicle. Dala dalas are essentially small vans built to move a dozen people from point A to point B in the most efficient way possible. There’s a little engine, pathetically small wheels, and a very long and tall back. They’re not designed for going fast, braking heavily, and then hitting a corner at pace. And that’s exactly what I was doing—all at once—when I hit the intersection to make the right turn. As I skidded through the hard-packed dirt, I knew I was on two wheels, and that my weight in the driver’s seat was likely the only thing keeping me upright.
    We had turned onto the main road on the southern side of town. The good news was that it was wider; the bad news was that it was packed with traffic. Ahead, I caught a glimpse of Naseeb weaving through traffic. I laid on the horn, and shifted right to get myself in the center of the road. One of the advantages of driving in countries with predominantly dirt roads is the ability to make lanes as needed, but driving in the middle of the road had its hazards since the drivers of some larger trucks had similar ideas, especially when passing locals on their bicycles or pulling hand-drawn carts. It also meant that I was visible to Naseeb, and gave him the same idea.
    I pressed and pressed, asking what I am sure was more from the little 4-cylinder engine than any of its previous owners, and together we were able to close the gap down to only a few meters. But as we approached the edge of town, traffic began to thin. And while I’d had the advantage navigating through obstacles thanks to some old, and thankfully not too rusty, training, the larger engine in the Land Cruiser would easily lose me on the straights.
    We popped a small crest, and I could see open road in the distance. It was now or never. I dropped down a gear and mashed the accelerator. The thin floorboard bent under the pressure, and the engine noise was positively deafening, but the old van answered the call. I closed the gap and shifted to the Land Cruiser’s right side, preparing for what is known as a PIT maneuver. The PIT, or pursuit immobilization technique, is one of the first things one learns in any tactical driving course. Essentially, the pursuer goes partially alongside the target vehicle and turns into its rear quarter panel. This causes the target vehicle to turn perpendicular and rapidly stop.
    That’s the theory, anyway.
    In actual practice, you need a bit of mass in the front of your car to force the target vehicle to lose its grip. With most cars, the area just in front of the front wheels is perfect for this. The driver’s well away from the