The pilot's headset squawks with more information.
"Sergeant Hicks, we're looking for a dark pick-up truck with a camper on the back, likely a three-quarter ton with a lift kit. Possibly headed south from the clinic. Over."
The pilot responds "Roger that sir. Is there anyone on foot I should be looking out for?"
"Negative. Find that truck!"
At that exact moment, the pilot's passenger points to his right…
"Hicks – look – three o'clock, five hundred yards!"
The pilot banks his R44 Raven chopper hard right while responding to his superior – "We've got a hot one here sir, he's speeding like a madman, and it fits the description."
Malcolm waits until the sound of the helicopter subsides, then he continues down another back alley towards home. As he crosses another intersection as nonchalantly as possible, a familiar car turns the corner, then begins to follow him east down White Boulevard. Malcolm uneasily slows down to see if the car does the same. As it does, he prepares to bolt in the opposite direction… the vehicle's passenger window rolls down under the control of the driver, who yells – "Get in. NOW!"