Whoever it was was apparently oblivious to our presence. He was pooping along at about 40 or so, and we were now gaining perceptibly. But 50 was a high rate of speed for us, considering the snow-packed and icy condition of the road.
If this guy really was using night vision equipment, my plan should work. Get in close, then hit him with all the light we had on the car. It should cause the night vision goggles to 'bloom' on him, and he'd be unable to see for a few seconds. His first reaction should be to stop.
'In about a second,' I said, 'we hit every damned light we got. Top lights, high-beam headlights, spotlight, everything. Just get ready for a hard stop. When I say…'
'Okay…'
'Stay with the son of a bitch for another five seconds, we got a chance here…' We were approaching a fairly sharp curve to the left. 'Just before he gets to the curve…'
'Right…'
'NOW!'
We both worked switches, John taking the headlights and the spotlight, and me getting the top red and white strobes, and hitting the siren on 'yelp' for good measure.
The lights had a dazzling effect on us, as well.
'SLOW DOWN, JOHN!'
Too late. I watched the snowmobile careen off the right side of the road toward the trees, with us right behind him. We hit small stuff, not much bigger than brush, and came to a stop in a large snowbank. I lost the snowmobile completely, as it went over the snowbank we stopped in. We didn't stop fast enough to deploy the airbags, but I was sure as hell grateful for the seat belts.
I reached over and cut the siren. The snow we'd kicked into the air came thundering back down onto the hood. Then silence. The black night air was filled with tiny red and white flashing snow particles, slowly settling on the windshield.
'Well, fuck.' I looked over at John. He was opening his door.
I tried to open mine, but couldn't manage more than a few inches in the deep snow that had been thrown alongside by our sliding impact. My outside view was considerably diminished by flashing strobes. 'Want to kill the lights?' I pushed a little harder, and got about four more inches of opening.
'Sir…'
'What?' My door seemed to have hit an obstacle.
'Sir…' said John. I looked up, and in the flashing red lights I could see the outline of a figure in a dark snowmobile suit, helmet with NVGs tilted up, sprawled in the snow at the top of the snowbank. It wasn't moving.
'Great,' I said, 'we've fuckin' killed him…'
I pushed real hard, and the door opened another three or four inches. I squeezed out, into the knee-deep snow, and approached the supine figure as cautiously as I could. I could hear John crunching through the snow just above and to my left. He'd obviously gotten up on the bank.
'Careful, sir,' he said.
'Yep.' I could see both hands of the figure, gloved, with the left one out to the side, and the right one almost folded behind. I heard the peculiar steel on nylon sound as John drew his gun. That meant that I was going to have to check the body. I really hoped he wasn't dead.
I took off my right glove, reached down, and worked the zipper at his throat, until I could get my first two fingers inside and feel for a carotid pulse. Strong. Good. I pulled my hand back, and pushed the night vision goggles up onto the top of his shiny black helmet, and carefully tested his visor. It slid up easily, and as it did so, I saw his eyes fly wide.
'Don't move,' I said. 'You've been in an accident…'
I took both his feet squarely in my chest. He lifted me a good foot off the ground, and propelled me backward about three. If it hadn't been for the bulletproof vest, he would have broken a couple of my ribs, at least. He'd moved so fast I hadn't even had time to react.
John, on the other hand, cracked off a round right past the guy's ear as he started to stand. He stopped so fast his momentum carried him forward on the bank, and he rolled head over heels down toward me. I rolled to one side, and got to my knees, drawing my own gun as John yelled, 'Freeze, asshole!'
A great command, although not designed for 'post-shot,' and still better late than never. The man in the snowmobile suit froze, all right. He had both knees under him, one hand in contact with the ground, and he was grabbing at his zippered neck. Obviously trying to reach something inside the snowmobile suit.
His hand stopped when he saw my gun in front, and heard John ask a question behind him…
'Should I shoot now, sir? I got him…'
'Only if he moves,' I said. I continued kneeling in front of the man, pointing my gun at his chest. 'Both hands in the air. Slow, but do it.'
He did. The visor of his helmet was still up, and I could just make out his eyes in the moonlight. As both hands cleared the top of his head, I rocked back, got my feet under me, and stood.
'Now lay down on your face, like you were going to make an angel in the snow. Hands way over your head… And turn your face away from me… That's right…'
He did as I told him, and I saw John put his gun away, and get out his handcuffs.
'Careful, John. Stay toward his hips, 'cause I'm gonna shoot him in the head if he moves. I don't want to get helmet fragments in you.'
That was said for the benefit of the suspect, naturally. With his head turned away, he wouldn't have any idea where I was, and could only feel John put the handcuffs on. For a smart suspect, it would be a case of no data, no plan, no action.
The man never moved a muscle.
When John stood up, I told him to open the rear door of the car. He did, and then came back to us. I was taking no chances with this fellow, none at all. He was just too damned quick.
'Roll over, and get to your knees,' I said. Not the easiest thing to do when you're handcuffed behind your back, but he accomplished it in one motion. I stepped behind him, removed my gloves, and patted him down. Large lump under the left arm. I knelt directly on the back of his lower legs and ankles, and reached around him and unzipped his suit. He was kind of squirmy, but never made a sound. With me on his legs like that, he had no chance for any leverage.
I reached in, and pulled out a.40 caliber Glock semiautomatic handgun. I dropped the magazine, jacked the chambered round out into the snow, and put the gun in my gun belt.
'Found a Glock,' I said to John.
'Cool…'
'Got any more?' I asked, patting his sides. No answer, but no weapons, either. Not as far as I could tell.
'He's probably got a knife,' I said to John, 'but I can't find it with him kneeling down.' Just a hunch.
I reached under his chin, and unstrapped his helmet, and pulled it off his head. Keeping it securely in my right hand, I leaned on his shoulders and pushed myself back to my feet.
'Walk on your knees to the car.'
He spoke for the first time. 'What?' He sounded exasperated and angry.
'It's either that or be dragged,' I said, evenly. 'We have rope in the trunk. It's not that far, and the snow's soft. You can do it.'
He did, too. I stood on his right, and John stood about twenty-five feet away, at the open rear door of the squad car. He covered him every inch of the way.
When he got to the car, I said, 'Just kneel right against the open door there, don't get in. You'll get enough warm air from the door.'
No leverage in the snow. Besides, he was likely a lot warmer than we were. I sat his helmet on the roof of the car, and handed the Glock to John. 'For the trunk, I think. And you'd better get us some backup,' I said. 'Good thing we called in the pursuit.'
'I'm just glad you were along. God, I'd hate to explain this all by myself.'
The flashing red strobe lights that were left were disorienting, to say the least. In the white environment, things seemed to leap toward and away from you with each pulse.
