They had a plan, so he thought anyway. Between last night and now there was greater temptation for Cole to just go get lost somewhere, maybe even go back to Tokyo for awhile. He didn't have a whole lot of confidence that this was going to work, even though Agent Hobbs was in charge of the operation.

Nonetheless, he was a man of his word, and he would not bail out of it for those that needed him. He spent the last night and a half getting his Corvette ZR1 ready for what was surely to be the most eventful night of his life, hopefully not his last. He developed his own personal plan if Hobbs and his men failed at the apprehension, he would be in the car still, so he'd put all that horsepower to use and see if he could just outsmart the mob to his freedom...hopefully he wouldn't have to find out if that was going to work.

The organization point for this race was discreet, and even though there was the typical race night buzz in the background with all the cars, music, and immature adolescents with something to prove. The atmosphere was very different at the starting line for this mega race. 6 cars from the wealthiest families were entered, each putting their 3 million on the line. 18 million would go to the winner. Cole had a plan for that too that he kept under the rug from everyone. If he won and Dieseli was arrested, guess who would be the only one to receive all that money? Him. No 25% cut BS.

He had a brief discussion with agent Hobbs before leaving, and made sure to tell him to show up once the race was under way. Not before and not after. The drivers were told to get in their cars, and he carefully watched Stephano retreat back into his Mercedes that was stationed along with a few other black cars in an open parking lot. Perfect. Cole made a quick call to Hobbs, telling him the exact location of where they would be.

Now, it was time to focus, get in that zone that all drivers had to program into. A man in a suit stepped between the row of cars and signaled to the drivers to be ready and raised his arms. Cole put the shifter in 1st and raised the RPM's of that supercharged V8, foot ever so slowly coming off the clutch in anticipation. The man's arms dropped, and the pack of 6 cars left in a loud trail of tire smoke. 30 miles of open road lay between them and the finish line. If nothing else, this was going to be an epic race.

Hobbs had his team assembled and ready to pounce. He made the call to Frank, or the Transporter as he apparently desired to be referred to as, and waited for his timely arrival. Once he got here they would hit the road in a caravan of cars and trucks to the spot that Peyton kid told them the mobsters were at.

There were SWAT teams, special agents, and even a few deputies that had lined up for this job. There were well equipped, and Hobbs felt confident in the mission. "Listen up everyone." He commanded once he had his entire team lined up in front of him. "The man were after tonight is a professional criminal, spent his whole in this business. We take him down and his own men will fight back equally as hard. You show no apprehension in doing what you have to do. You all know the plan, let's do this." Hobbs nodded and turned to look down the street for his ride and driver.

Frank was just outside finishing up a little fine tuning on his Mercedes when his phone rang. He answered and put the speaker to his ear. Without a response as usual he hung up and put the hood down on the Mercedes. Flipping a switch his garage door closed and he stepped into his house. It didn't take more than three minutes as Frank changed into a black suit and tie. He wasn't about to step into his car covered in grease, nor was he going to present himself that way. It was unprofessional.

In moments he was outside and sitting in his 2013 Audi A8. He started her up and reached into his glove box where he pulled out a pair of black driving gloves. He put them on one after the other. He gripped the steering wheel and flexed his knuckles once. He looked up in the mirror and slammed the car into reverse as he peeled out onto the street quickly shifting to first and taking off. Frank glided in and out of traffic effortlessly as he made his way to the location he was given by the agent. His expression didn't once fluxuate as he made what would normally be dangerous manuevers to any normal driver.

It didn't take long before Frank was nearly there. He came speeding down the road to where he could see a group of people standing around one man. This had to be the spot. As the group began to scatter the one man turned around. Frank pulled the emergency brake and put the car sideways as he came to a stop a couple feet from the agent. The agent was standing in the perfect spot where he could simply open the door and get in. The passenger side window rolled down to reveal Frank. "Shall we?"

Hobbs studied his squad take their positions in the caravan and kept an ear open for the sound of a German touring car coming his way. Within minutes, that sound he was looking for pierced through the air and soon after an Audi hauling ass towards him slide to his side...quite literally. Hobbs got in without so much as moving an eyebrow and gave the man in the driver's seat a hard look. He showed a serious and collected expression through his eyes. It was game time.

"Let's go." Hobbs commanded as the SWAT trucks and police cruisers filed out in a mad rush to the designated location. "I'm told that the target car is sitting among three others in a parking lot directly off the street I told you they'd be. It's a black Mercedes S-Class AMG. If that car takes off, we chase and we don't let up come hell or high water." Hobbs reiterated as they sped to the location. Thoughts of whether this was the best decoy in the world or if he could even trust his sources plagued his thoughts, but he was committed to this now. Just the chance of this being successful was worth the risk.

Frank took with agent Hobbs in the car and drove with pure confidence. If there was something that never bothered him, it was being involved in something high risk such as this. "I do hope they provide something of a challenge, but usually other drivers like myself are more amateur." He continued to speed towards the location that agent Hobbs had given him, once again weaving in and out of traffic with grace and excellent control. It was easy to tell that Frank was quite familiar with driving under pressure as his posture and expressions never faltered. His presence was nothing but calm.

"So how do you want to do this? Something tells me that racing in towards them when we get there is only a sure way to let them know that they should probably take their leave. It's your call though." This was still a first for Frank. Not only was he driving for the authorities this time, but he wasn't actually really transporting anything. This was a different sort of job. Though it wasn't that he had never driven for good against criminals, he had just never had an agent sitting in his car because of a job offer. It didn't matter however, Frank had accepted the job, and thus he would make sure to see it through to the end as he always had in the past.

Hobbs shot a stern glance at the driver after his statement. "Don't get too cocky, they'll be prepared, I'm sure." He turned back to look out at the road ahead, which was blazing by. Whether it was confidence or arrogance or a mixture of both, this guy had it. Hobbs was depending that there was a lot of bite behind that bark, though his wheel skills up to this point indicated that he was beyond average...a lot better than what Hobbs himself could do anyway.

The agent crossed his arms and sat back in the seat, taking a look in the mirror to see trailing police units...a small part of the large squad he assembled. "I've got coordinated units coming in from every street, they won't even know where to go when the SWAT teams take their positions. We'll hang back a few yards from everyone unless that Mercedes with Dieseli in the backseat finds its way through." The agent paused to switch his eyes over to Frank. "That's where you'll make your money tonight. That Mercedes escapes, and we're fucked." He emphasized.

It didn't take long for the whole team to get into position around the target parking lot. Everyone remained stationary, awaiting Hobbs order through the radio. Once he had a moment to check for anything abnormal, he gave the command to move in, and dozens of squad cars with SWAT trucks in between flooded the area around the parking lot with the three luxury sedans. Officers disbanded from their patrol cars and SWAT members took their positions as Hobbs watched from the short distance he and Frank were parked. It was an ominous silence, until suddenly one of the mafia sedans released a cloud of tactical smoke, engulfing the cars, which was quickly following by the sound of assault rifles ripping through the air. A black Mercedes S-Class bolted off from the scene of the firefight, and with it Hobbs immediately barked. "That's the car, chase him!" The S-Class snaked through the patrol cars straight towards their path.

Frank listened to what the agent said to him about the coordinated units and such. He smirked a bit. "No offense agent, but honestly someone of this kind of power and influence isn't going to let just anyone behind the wheel of the car that he's in. I'm not really putting much faith in your men. Just my honest professional opinion." He had been in plenty of tight spots with authorities in the past, and each and every time he had manage to escape without any trail. So he wasn't so confident that the boys in blue would be sufficient enough to take the man down. However, he knew it would be the perfect set up to lure the prey out of the pack, which is exactly what Frank was expecting.

Sure enough, as Frank and the agent sat at a distance from the cars watching SWAT roll in, it all went down as Frank had thought. He watched carefully as the black Mercedes bursted out through the white smoke and sped towards them. "Just as I said." Frank and the agent weren't given away just yet, and Frank wasn't about to let that happen yet either. Sure he could pull out in front of them blocking their path, but at what cost? Both cars would be destroyed in the process, and it would also put his and the agent's lives on the line. That move was out of the question.

"This part is where I can. I do hope you can refrain from barking orders, as this is my expertise. You let me do my job, and we'll get your man." With that the black Mercedes past the front of the Audi. Frank turned to look at the agent. "Buckle up." Frank put the car in gear and suddenly they ripped out of their parking spot in pursuit of the mobster. "Tell me agent, what's your plan? I can either follow him to wherever he goes, which who knows how far that might be, or I can get you close enough to pull off some heroics like shooting out his tires." Frank waited for his response before pursuing to close as they weren't noticed yet.

Hobbs took a quick glance at him as he said 'buckle up,' but quickly understood the message as the Audi shot forward after the Mercedes, surprisingly subtly. "Very well." He answered understanding Frank's position. It was a habit of his to play commander no matter what situation, something he would have to keep in check. Strangely enough, the Mercedes didn't drive like it was being chased, more like an emphasized leave. That gave him a bit of time to think his strategy over, which simply was, stop him at all costs. "Any tricks you might have to wreck him?" Hobbs suddenly quipped, thinking that would put them in a strong advantage over them if it came down to a gunfight.

Stephano was initially led to believe that there was no way police forces could possibly predict where he and his accomplices would be sitting during the race. Even now, the driver was still convinced that it was a safe place, despite the fact that they just narrowly escaped what now was shaping up to be one hell of a firefight between his men and police.

The mobster made several glances behind them, feeling nervous about how well orchestrated that ambush was. He spied an Audi that he had seen for the second time now following at a conservative distance, nervous they were being followed, Stephano ordered the driver to substantially pick up the pace. If that Audi kept up, he had a problem.

Frank shot a quick glance over at the agent before looking back towards the Mercedes. "Well with all due respect, I'd prefer to keep the damage minimal on my end. Repairs can be costly. If you're confident in your aim, then I can get you into positon for a shot at their tires, though we may come under fire as well. If that doesn't work, it's all a game of which driver can hold out through stress longer." He watched and gauged the Mercedes up ahead as it began to speed up. "Rest assured, he's not losing me. She may not be a sports car, but this Audi packs a good 600 horsepower, and I believe my skills will make adequate use of all 600."

With that Frank shifted up and the car jerked forward as it accelerated faster now to catch up with Mercedes. He carefully watched the turns the car would take here and there, and Frank would drift around the same turns in and out of traffic with precision and ease. There was no mistaking how comfortable Frank was at this. With a bit of time they were drawing nearer to the black Mercedes. "Your opportunity is coming up, so get ready." He continued to close the gap not letting a single manuever of theirs cause him to falter. They would have to try a lot harder to lose Frank.

The air was tense in the cabin of the Mercedes, the driver could feel beads of sweat developing on his forehead. He'd gone through every move in his arsenal, and nothing was shaking that Audi behind him, if anything, the Audi looked more poised than him. He definitely wasn't just another FBI agent chasing them.

"Pick up the pace!" Stephano practically yelled as the Audi filled the view out the back window, he grabbed a Uzi that was placed under the passenger seat and set it beside him, this was one of the few times he was actually nervous. His driver especially was feeling the heat as the mobster could tell, as his driving was becoming increasingly erratic.

So that answered that, though Hobbs was beginning to think that the Merc was going to crash on his own by how out of control his maneuvers were. Either way though, this needed to end quickly, so if that meant some optimistic stunt, then so be it.

"Alright, tell me when its time." Hobbs yanked out his M9 and set it aside. Traffic was starting to get thick, and the agent's heart rate increased a little with the antics both cars were pulling off. He never quite had been on a ride like this before.

He watched the manuevers of the Mercedes carefully and it was becoming obvious just how far the gap in skill was between himself and the driver in front of him. He could tell that driver of the Mercedes was feeling the pressure now as his car was a bit shaky during certain moves he tried to pull in an attempt to lose Frank. He figured that would be the case. Most couldn't hold up to Frank's level of driving. "Hold on. Let me try something." Frank suddenly had an idea that might be perfectly suited for this situation.

He accelerated a bit more to put his front bumper nearly inches from the rear bumper of the Mercedes. As long as Frank kept his focus he'd be able to mimic the moves of the driver in front. By doing so most drivers would panic. That's exactly what Frank was hoping for. If the driver of the Mercedes were to panic it wouldn't take much for him to veer slightly in the wrong direction causing him to wreck. The only thing was, Frank would have to be quick at calling the right moment because he'd have to hit the breaks and broaden the gap at just the right time. If he didn't they were liable to pile right into the wreck along with them. However this wasn't Frank's first day on the job.

Keeping his front bumper almost touching the Mercedes he continued the high speed pursuit watching as the other driver continued to let his nerves get the better of him. The look on Frank's face was nothing but focus. He was in a world of his own now. At this moment everything else was a blur, including the agent, the mobster, and even the mission. He saw only the hood of his car, the Mercedes in front, and the traffic flying past them.

The driver of the Mercedes was beginning to realize that the Audi behind him was actually a faster car, and there was no faking out the driver of that sedan either. With Stephano continuing to yell profanities at him, it became harder and harder to stay focused, an addition to the fact that he really hadn't had much training or experience in these situations. Knowing very well that his life was on the line if they were caught, he began to push the laws of physics and put the accelerator to the floor, barely maintaining control of the car with every swerve to miss traffic.

The Audi wasn't going anywhere, and the mobster at this point was in a bit of a panic. There were no support vehicles associated with him anywhere nearby. They were completely on their own. He pushed the driver to try something, anything, to shake the pursuers. Out of desperation, the Mercedes' driver veered the S-Class hard to the right, in an attempt to catch a side street coming up fast on the right. Unfortunately, he nowhere near slowed the heavy Merc enough to make the corner, and the back end washed out from his control. The car slid only a few yards before the right rear quarter panel slammed into the stoplight post, nearly sheering the trunk right off. Within seconds, a huge fire erupted around the car as the fuel tank and punctured. Stephano was unconscious inside the remains of the Mercedes, and the driver was extremely dazed, only half aware of what was going on.

Hobbs was simply along for the ride with Frank's precision that even he couldn't have imagined was possible. Now he was beginning to be impressed, but that didn't matter really unless they got the man.

Only moments later, his wish was practically granted. The Mercedes had been reduced to practically a fireball, and Hobbs wondered if they had even survived the impact. He stepped out of the Audi as it came to a stop by the wreck and drew his gun, waiting for a last ditch effort on the mobsters part. Approaching the car wasn't an option, who knows what could happen with all that fuel spilled around it. He made a quick announcement over his radio and ordered for a few backup cruisers to the location.

Frank watched closer and closer to the Mercedes on his front bumper. With each passing second the driving of the other car was becoming more and more erratic. Any moment now the car could lose control and wreck, and Frank had to be ready for it. Then it happened. The other driver tried to pull off a turn that just wasn't possible, not even for Frank. He saw the car jerk to the right and that was exactly when Frank hit the brake and downshifted several times. Instead of taking the turn with the Mercedes, Frank jerked to the left and put the Audi in a 180 spin. The Audi came to a stop and Frank rolled up on the wrecked Mercedes as the agent then got out.

Frank had done his part of the job, and now he'd wait for the agent to do his. He'd stay by just in case, since in his opinion the job wasn't finished until the agent actually had the guy put into a police cruiser and had him hauled off. He sat in the driver seat and just watched as agent Hobbs approached the now burning Mercedes. He watched as he made a radio call, most likely for back up. Frank had to admit it was nice being on the other end for a change and knowing that the back up was on its way in pursuit of him. Sometimes he grew tired of those situations, but they came with the job.

Hobbs was about ready to rush to the Merc and yank the mobster out of it, since he'd probably be too dazed to pull any kind of defense. However, just as he was making his way to the blazing car, the sound of fireworks going off cracked through the air, and sounded as if they were coming from the trunk. Hobbs immediately knew it was ammunition exploding back there. A concerned glance crossed his face, and he wondered what else could be back in that trunk. He back up from the car and waited for the ammo to stop going off, it wouldn't be a surprise if there was an RPG sitting back there. He gave a quick motion to Frank to back up a few yards from the scene.

It was a good thing Hobbs retreated. Only a few seconds later, a rocket in the trunk exploded, obliterating what was left of the car and sending shrapnel everywhere.

It was hard to focus on the task at hand: Racing a 750hp supercharged corvette through the nightly rush of traffic while being preoccupied with what could possibly be going on in the rest of his world. Did they get Stephano? Did they fail? Are they safe? These and more raced through his brain as fast as he was driving, he didn't know he could be so focused on two different topics at the same time...until now.

The GPS told him they had reached the 20 mile mark of the race. Cole was 2nd place behind a nice Porsche. 12 miles to go. The race up to this point had been chaotic to say the least. Two cars had already crashed out, hard. Cops were trying their best to intercept the racers, but their rather pathetic Ford crown victorias stood no chance against hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of exotic machinery. Cole lost count the the near misses he had with traffic. Racing through open streets with traffic was not a big strong suit of his, he lacked the experience many other guys had with this type of driving, and was pretty hit and miss. The only time he really ever had success on the open roads was that time he raced Brian and won...barely. Now would be a great time to get that 2nd win though. If all had gone to plan, Stephano and his goons would be all locked up by the time the race ended and guess who would be there to collect all 18 million dollars worth of winnings? Exactly, him. But first he had to win.

Speeds reached about 130 mph in the middle of suburb traffic, it was borderline ridiculous, things were going by in a blur. Nonetheless, the corvette kept pulling and Cole slammed into 4th gear, now reaching 140. That Porsche in the near distance wasn't gaining or getting closer, which was rather frustrating for the blonde in the vette. They continued through their dance with fate a few more miles until the GPS read 5 miles to go. It really was now or never.

Cole said a prayer of thanks as the road on route back to the start line began to clear up a bit. A few solid turns and few quick shifts had put him within striking distance of the Porsche. That being said, catching him was one thing, passing was another.

3 miles to go.

Thoughts of what the scene was back at the start line crept back into his head, and it was difficult to repress them. A couple car lengths separated the German supercar from the American supercar. A brave braking maneuver and a tight corner put Cole on the bumper of the Porsche, he got a little excited on the shifts but couldn't make much ground on the straightaway.

2 miles to go.

Cole could feel beads of sweat forming now, it was down to the last few attempts. The Porsche was pulling every block in the book to keep the vette from passing.

1 Mile to go.

One thing about Cole in his professional days of racing that made him so successful was his attitude that he hated losing more than he loved winning. And that passion now fueled his last final charge. For the first time in the whole race, the thoughts of the bust operation were completely vacant from his brain and he was completely focused on the task at hand. There was a left-right chicane style turn before the final straight to the finish. Cole layed back just a car-length or so it be able to get a run out of it. The Porsche predictable ran defensive, and Cole took the left part wide and cut the right corner, giving him the momentum of the turn. He kicked the clutch in and powershifted into 3rd, causing the rear tires to break traction for a brief second. The maneuver worked, as the Porsche didn't even have time to block the corvette. Cole swung past and cleared the German before he could try anything dirty.

The set finish line was just before the original starting line. He could see people standing there, but off to the far sides looking rather concerned. He crossed the line just in front of the Porsche and gave a pretty enthusiastic fist pump to go along with it.

As he rolled back to where the race organizers were, he could automatically tell something wasn't right, only a few people were there, and even they seemed to be constantly looking over their shoulder. "What's going on?" Cole immediately asked before even asking for his winnings as he stepped out of the corvette. His car smelled like burnt rubber, burnt clutch, and burnt carbon.

"Huge bust man, gunfire and everything. Cops showed up and attacked the mobs shortly after you started. There's people dead over there man." One of the money holders told him and then handed a dufflebag full of cash over to him. "There's your dough, I suggest you get lost before they come back. It was ugly, man."

Cole nodded as was about to get into his car before a black Cadillac sedan sped around the corner and skidded to a stop. Two passengers stepped out and immediately drew their guns. "Oh shit!" Cole exclaimed as he knew exactly what was going on. The men aimed and fired towards him as he crawled back in the corvette (the engine was still running, thank God) and sped away from the scene, bullets chasing after him. Fortunately, they weren't the best shots he'd ever seen.

He easily left the caddy in the dust, but wondered how many other squads like it Stephano's gang had. Once he thought he was clear, at least for the time being, he whipped out his phone and was about to call Dom until he saw he had a voicemail from Hobbs. He quickly dialed his mailbox and listened to the message. Dieseli was under control, was all Hobbs told him. He let out a huge sigh of relief and dialed Dom, keeping one eye on the road around him and another on his phone. He told Dom what had happened, what he heard about Stephano, and what his situation was right now.

Once he hung up, he carefully drove his way to the shipping docks Dom told him he was at, hoping he wasn't being stalked. Maybe the docks weren't a good idea either, but at least he could watch from a distance and see for himself just how well the second part of this plan was going.