Peter turned the vehicle toward the southeast, away from the city, to decrease the likelihood that the pursuing police cars would notice them. Now far from the roads, driving on the dense sand, they were traveling about sixty-five miles per hour. Jason peered nervously in the direction of the airport, looking for flashing lights. He soon saw two of the cars leaving the airport at high speed on the road toward the highway. The third must have stayed behind to question the driver. They seemed to be in the clear. He breathed deeply, trying to relax. Peter made a large semicircle around the back of the airport complex and climbed onto a back road that would lead them to the other side.
They passed dozens of commercial aircraft, Arabic writing decorating their hulls and fins, without saying a word. Peter looked deep in thought. A large passenger jet came in for a landing in front of them. Still recovering from the shock of the situation, Jason swallowed hard and finally asked, "So what now?"
Peter seemed barely aware of Jason's presence, simply speaking out loud what he was thinking. "Ditch the car. Get back to town, back to my contact list."
"Wouldn't we be better off working with the police instead of running from them?"
Peter's cell phone rang. "Hello?" There was a long pause as he listened. "Thanks, man. That's a hot lead. Fast, too. 'Preciate it." He rang off and glanced at Jason, then looked at the road. "From what I've been hearin' since yesterday, we're better off without 'em. Lots o' cops turnin' to crime since the riots started. I don't think they'd be much help right now. Better to stay off their radar."
"So what's the hot lead?"
"Rumor of items stolen from an American girl fresh off the plane. Some guys apparently usin' a taxi cab to rob people the last couple o' days."
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