They were a few miles down the road before Turner glanced at the rearview mirror. And there it was. About two hundred yards behind them. A red Dodge Challenger R/T. Far enough behind him to not generate any suspicions. Cruising along at the speed limit. But well within range of keeping Turner’s white and blue Shelby Mustang in view.
“Got company,” he said softly to Frank.
“I see ’em,” Frank grunted, watching in the mirror on the passenger side door. “What’s our next move?”
“Get your phone out. Call the Highway Patrol and tell them we need their assistance. Tell them two armed and dangerous felons wanted by the FBI are following us. Give them our badge numbers and descriptions of our car and the red Challenger. Tell them we want a roadblock set up about a mile outside the city. Make sure
