B23C13 - Flight Rule

<Oh, man! She's going for a cab!> I yelled as the hotel doorman waved for a taxi.

<Traffic's pretty bad. Maybe we can stay with her,> Rachel said.

<Not by staying in the air, we can't,> I said grimly.

(...)

The red lights atop the police car were mounted on a raised bar. There was a light at either end, and a couple of feet of open bar between.

The cab headed east down a major boulevard. So did the police car. They were only doing twenty miles an hour in the traffic, but hawks and eagles can't just fly long distances in a straight line. We need to turn, to ride the thermals upward. Even at twenty miles an hour the cab could lose us.

Down we swooped, turning height into speed.