Callahan
"I don't think..." the man starts then stops. "s**t!"
I follow his gaze to where another vehicle drives erratically toward us from inside the gates. It's a large SUV and I can only make out the shadows of the two in the front seat. The driver honks his horn angrily.
"Petrov," the one with the clipboard says.
"Mother fucker," the other one curses.
The driver lays on his horn opening his window and flipping us or the guards or the whole lot of us off as he barrels toward us and even over the music, I can hear him laughing.
"f*****g asshole," clipboard guy says as he jumps backward.
I hit the gas and pull through the gates, only managing to miss the SUV by a hair. In the rearview mirror I see it swerve as if to run over the soldiers.
"Who the f**k is f*****g Petrov?" Antonio
