Chapter 36 - The calculated ambush
Vance paused, his sharp gaze flicking downward to the pulsing red dot on his chest. A thin, patronizing smile touched his lips.
"Do you truly believe your brother’s marksman skills can outmatch thirty seasoned operatives holding this estate?" Vance murmured, his voice calm despite the targeting laser burning into his coat. "If a single rifle round is fired, my men will level this courtyard with high-explosive ordnance."
"He isn't aiming at you to kill you, Julian," Maya whispered, stepping directly into Vance’s personal space. "He's painting the target for the federal strike team you thought you bypassed."
Before Vance could react, the screech of twin twin-rotor Chinooks drowned out the storm. Four massive spotlight beams descended from the clouds, illuminating dozens of FBI Hostage Rescue tactical teams descending onto the perimeter hills.
Arthur screamed, scrambling backward through the mud like a crab. "Vance! You said your government contacts cleared the airspace!"
"Silence!" Vance snapped, his composure finally shattering. He lunged forward to grab Maya by the throat, intending to use her as a human shield.
Maya had anticipated the move. She ducked beneath his reach, her right hand whipping out of her pocket with Marcus’s ceramic derringer. She didn't fire at Vance’s armored chest; she fired point-blank into the carbon tablet in his left hand.
The specialized ceramic round punched through the tablet's casing, shattering the lithium-ion battery. A blinding burst of white-hot sparks and pressurized flame erupted, engulfing Vance's arm in fire. The syndicate director shrieked in agony, dropping the burning wreckage into the mud.
"Drop your weapons! Federal agents!" a booming voice echoed from the lead helicopter’s loudspeaker as tear-gas canisters exploded along the perimeter treeline.
Chaos erupted. The mercenary operators opened fire, scattering toward the tree line to engage the arriving federal strike team. Gunfire crackled through the rain, tracer rounds painting streaks of fire across the midnight sky.
Arthur saw his chance. He scrambled to his feet, lunging toward an abandoned black SUV idling near the estate gates.
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Garrett burst through the manor’s side entrance, sprinting across the courtyard through the smoke and crossfire with Marcus right behind him. "Arthur! Stop!"
👉 Arthur threw himself into the driver's seat, slamming the gas pedal to the floor just as the vehicle's onboard dashboard flashed a sudden, ominous sequence of crimson digits: a ten-second countdown.
