"We've been having problems with it," a woman's voice said. "Hang on just a minute."
"Your luggage is in the trunk," the FBI driver said, as they got in.
"Everybody in place?" Harry asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Tell 'em it's okay to open the gate."
They watched as the van moved through the opening.
Harry accepted a handheld radio from the driver. "This is number one; we're moving."
They waited until the gate closed behind the van, then drove up to it and out of the ramp area.
"Can you see them?" Harry asked the driver.
"No, sir, but I've got confirmation on my earpiece that they're in sight up ahead. We'll be working a four-vehicle pattern. They'll never know."
"I hope you're right," Harry said.
Following directions from the radio, they headed toward Miami Beach.
* * *
Ham, John and Peck all sat in the rear seat at John's direction, even though it was cramped.
"Ham," John said, "start handing our luggage from the rear up here."
Ham didn't understand, but he did as he was told.
"You hold on to the rifle. I'll take your bag."
"What's going on?" Peck asked.
"You'll see in a minute," John replied.
"Who's behind the van now? " Harry said into the radio. "Car four."
"Can you see inside?"
"Not really. The windows have that
dark vinyl stuff on them."
"How close are you?"
"Two cars between me and them."
"Drop back another car. I don't want to crowd them."
"Yes, sir."
Traffic was fairly heavy. Ham, who was sitting on the right side of the van, looked out and saw another van, a maroon one, keeping pace with them in the right lane.
"We'll do it at the traffic light," John said. "Ham, get ready to open the door."
Ham put his hand on the door handle.