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"Now, officers up to the rank of Sergeant carry a whistle and chain on their left breast pocket. A Sergeant proudly wears a single silver bar on their left shoulder as a mark of their rank and responsibility. CHiPs wear their pistols holstered on their strong side, typically on the right hip. And let me tell you about those holsters—they're not your average leather rigs. They use the best: custom-molded, Level III retention holsters. They keep your firearm secure until they need it, and they're built to withstand whatever the job throws their way.
"And now we come to the most important part: the badge." He reached into a small box beside him, carefully retrieving the badges one by one. Each badge gleamed in the light, its polished surface reflecting the determination in Manuel's eyes as he addressed the men. "In the California Highway Patrol, it is worn proudly on the left breast, just above the heart. When you're in the training area, you'll be wearing your uniforms at all times. You guys will have to embody the role of CHiP officers completely. And no, you won't have long to get used to them. We need to hit the ground running, so you'll need to adapt quickly and convincingly. When you're standing in that uniform, remember that posture is everything. Stand tall, shoulders back, chin up," he barked.
"For your safety, I'm going to drill you until you think like a CHiP, until police behavior is second nature to you. That way, in the heat of the moment, you won't make mistakes. When I summon you from now on, you don't walk, you double. You'll get away with murder if your action looks sharp. Now, one of the first things you have to learn is how to come to attention and salute properly." He demonstrated the correct stances, showing them how to stand with their feet shoulder-width apart, hands by their sides, and eyes fixed straight ahead. "Make sure your movements are crisp and precise. You want to project confidence and authority so nobody will question you." Satisfied with their positioning, Manuel nodded in approval. "When you're finished, you can stand at east. But remember, even when you're at ease, you're still considered representatives of the CHiP. Keep your demeanor professional."
Manuel looked at his watch. "I have to go now, make my rounds at Pescadero. Tonight, work on your uniforms, make sure they fit, polish up your boots, and clean your holsters. Tomorrow we'll start with a kit inspection and then we'll try a little foot drill to get your blood moving in the early morning."
"Thank you, Mr. Mendoza," Dragov said.
The nurse strode to his car. Dragov signaled to Ferdnand to open the doors. It was still pitch dark outside. As the car drove out of the warehouse the others broke ranks.
"I never thought I'd find myself impersonating a policeman," Michael said, stamping his new boots on the concrete floor, feeling ridiculous in his uniform with his beard and glasses.
"'The guerrilla must move amongst the people as a fish swims in the sea,'" Etienne said, quoting Mao's guerilla warfare doctrine. He watched Dragov making his way towards them. "He's going to be working us, now."
Colin threw Flynn a mock salute as he passed him. It was a jeering gesture that stung the Irishman. "Bugger off, damn you," he said furiously, unable to control himself any longer. "I hate cops," Flynn muttered bitterly, his voice laced with resentment. "Back in Ulster, I've had more run-ins with British soldiers and the Royal Ulster Constabulary than I care to count. They came at us with batons and bullets, but we fought back with whatever we had—stones, Molotov cocktails, anything to defend ourselves and our people. I remember one night at a police post. They had me in custody, interrogating me for hours on end, trying to break me. But I didn't give them the satisfaction. I held strong, even when they used every dirty trick in the book to try and get information out of me. They thought they could break me, but they were wrong. It only made me hate them even more. You watch, I'll get that bastard Mendoza before this is out. So help me, if I don't kill him, I'll beat him bloody."
"M'sieu Flynn," Colin answered, weary of his outbursts, "why are you always looking for trouble? Leave him alone, he's working for us."
"What I do is none of your bloody business, frog," Flynn said savagely.
Colin shrugged and moved away, but Etienne had overheard their exchange.
"Why did you bring Flynn into this group?" he asked Dragov. "That poisonous bastard isn't like you or me, he's just a troublemaker. Get rid of him," he urged.
"I can't," Dragov answered. "We need someone with a spate of some experience with law enforcement to act as the SFC. Gather round," he shouted to the men. "All right, now the real training begins. For a start, we have to make a mock-up of the Pacific Coast Highway.'
Michael made his way, exhausted, back to the safe house. He took off his boots and crept miserably into his sleeping bag. A hand shook him roughly by the shoulder. It was Ferdnand. "Get up," the big man said. "You and I have to cook tonight."
Michael followed him down the corridor to the kitchen. Dragov pressed them. He looked Michael up and down.
"If I need you in the Monaco, you're going to have to get rid of that beard," he said.
"What's wrong?" Ferdnand asked as they entered the kitchen.
"I've had this beard a long time," Michael told him, stroking it protectively. "It hides a weak chin."
"One of us lays out the plates and washes up and the other cooks," Ferdnand replied, unmoved.
"I'll cook," Michael volunteered. "Ferdnand," he asked, banging the pots down on the stove, "what brings a man like you from your home in France to California?"
"What would you expect?" Ferdnand answered. "The money, excitement of action, the smell of blood. What brings any of us to this place?" He sent the plates he was carrying clattering onto the kitchen table and smiled at Michael. "Besides," he said, "I love your cooking."653Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJu4PtM6UZa
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They were up long before dawn again the next morning. Nurse Mendoza drilled them until the sweat ran freely, despite the temperature being a comfortable 70 degrees in the warehouse. As before, when Manuel left to make his rounds at Pescadero, Dragov took over.
The section of the highway that they were going to use had been chalked out on the floor. They had discovered sacking and timber stacked against one wall and this was used to mark the bridges and the side road.
"Can we turn the van on its side?" Dragov asked.
"If you don't mind spilling some gasoline it won't do any harm," Etienne told him.
"All right, pull it over," Dragov ordered. "The men who'll be waiting in the '74 Monaco, that's me, Flynn, Ferdnand, and Colin, take your positions. We're going to run through this slowly one more time. If you have questions, if you're unsure of what we're doing, stop and ask me."
Zoltan went to his firing point. Etienne took the two-way radio and called out the sequence of events as they occurred.
"Convoy in sight. Convoy approaching, seven hundred meters, six, five,"
"All right, hit it!" Dragov called. He counted the seconds off on the stopwatch. "There goes the crash," he shouted. "The van is on its side. All right, the '74 Monaco moves forward, stops, and everyone out. Ferdnand, you've got to get around to the front and jam that door so the driver and the orderly can't escape. Colin, you and I open the back of the van. Flynn, the cops bringing up the rear of the convoy will be on us within fifty seconds from now----you've got to warn them of the danger of the van burning, keep them away from us."
"What about the back door of the van?" Colin asked. "Surely it will be locked from the inside if they're carrying an important patient?"
"We'll open it with a small charge of plastic explosives," Dragov ordered. "That's my job."
Etienne came up.
"I've been thinking," he said, "If you don't want to use fire and you still want to create a diversion, then after I've side-swiped the ambulance, I can roll the truck over. I estimate that I'll be coming out of the last spin and sideswiping the van at just over 60 kilometers an hour. My speed will have reduced right down, I figure I'd roll once or twice, not more. Chevy reinforces the roof as standard and the doors are burst-proof. I should be safe enough, and it will look spectacular. I've been worrying about that rear CHiP Crown Victoria," Etienne added. "If I don't manage to block them with my car they'll turn right into the side road on you after the van. So this way Flynn can snd them to pull me out of my car."
"Can you decide whether you're going to let your truck roll or not after the sideswipe?"
"I think I should have enough control left," Etienne said.
"O.K. It's all going to have to depend on which of the unmarked vehicles they've got Ms. Barton in."
"How far away do you think we'll be able to spot the markings that Manuel's going to put on it?" Etienne asked.
"About five hundred meters."
"That's too short a distance. We'll need a man in a car outside Pescadero to spot the unmarked van for us as it comes out, and then he'll have to follow it down the PCH to make sure the CHiPs don't change its position."
"It's an easy enough job for a man with a two-way radio," Dragov said. "I'll find someone."
"Maybe Michael could handle that," Etienne suggested.
The men gathered around. "That was a good day," Dragov told them. "You did well, but keep thinking, keep going over your part of the plan. If you have any questions or ideas tell me, and we'll work them out together. Everyone O.K. for the moment?"653Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm8rMBQawFt
They nodded tiredly.653Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI3XQkDAXCP
"Right," Dragov said. "The slow run-throughs are over, we start speeding it up tomorrow." 653Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqVRV3qvSLI
