"Not our problem," Green answered. "If we saved them tonight, they'd be right back out here in a week. But if we don't leave right now, we won't be around next week to catch them."

Green backed the truck up.

Pausing to put out the fire gave a prowler enough time to sneak up and place several needle sharp, steel spike balls behind all of the vehicle's tires. As quickly as he appeared, the prowler disappeared again into the shadows. When the truck moved backwards, all of the tires were punctured and flattened immediately.

"Uhh…we've got a bit of a problem out here, control," Green said into the radio with a touch of anxiety in his voice.

"What is it?"

"All of our tires are flat."

"You can't move? Not at all?" the voice over the radio said.

"Negative."

"SHIT!!" Vernell Bailey was the dispatcher at OPS on the radio with Unit 13. He thought he had turned his microphone off, but missed the button. "Unit thirteen is in deep shit."

The officers in the truck looked at one another. Flanagan broke the silence.

"We're in an armored car. What do we have to worry about? He shows up, we burn him like we did the others out there." When he saw the stares from the other two, the rookie looked at them defensively. "What?"

The others shook their heads. Duvall turned

12