"Damn it!" the driver cursed. "Was this guy FBI too? PIT—Precision Immobilization Technique. He reeks of Blue Dog!"
"Shake him off," Dario said coldly.
But before his words had even faded, there came another intimate encounter. The driver jerked the wheel, but the car's momentum still spiraled out of control. It suddenly swung sideways, spun once, and charged into the oncoming lane.
But the driver Dario had hired was clearly no ordinary man either. He had extensive experience dealing with PIT maneuvers. Rather than slamming on the brakes and losing speed amid the violent shaking, he went with the flow and drifted in the opposite direction.
Schiller turned his wheel as well, making a U-turn on the spot and clinging tightly to the Lincoln's rear.
Though stretch Lincolns were mostly used as ceremonial vehicles, their performance and power were actually quite respectable. They could not compare to top-tier sports cars, but they were still decent, and for safety reasons, their collision protection systems were better designed to minimize damage in a crash.
Schiller's Ford, meanwhile, was just an ordinary family car. Though it was the oversized model commonly seen in American households, its price was nowhere near that of a stretch Lincoln, so its specs naturally could not match a luxury car's.
But the driver of the stretch Lincoln clearly could not adapt to such a long body, and his control over the rear half was lacking. After driving straight for a while, Schiller found his opening and kicked its ass again.
The car lost control more and more severely, swaying left and right like it was dancing funk in the middle of the road. The driver cursed as he drove, and even Dario could not help swearing.
"I didn't expect you to be such a good driver, Doctor," Jarvis