Chapter 6 - The Phantom of Route 9
Chaos erupted in a fraction of a second.
I hit the button on the remote in my pocket. The flashbang hidden inside the fake laptop detonated with a blinding flash of white light and a deafening roar.
Arthur screamed, dropping his gun and clutching his eyes.
Simultaneously, the warehouse skylights shattered as FBI tactical teams rappelled down from the roof. Red laser sights cut through the dusty air, locking onto the armed thugs.
“FBI! Drop your weapons! Get on the ground!”
Gunfire echoed as two of Arthur's men blindly fired back, only to be instantly dropped by sniper fire from outside.
I didn't wait. I dove across the floor, tackling the chair my mother was tied to, bringing us both crashing to the ground behind a stack of wooden pallets, safely out of the line of fire.
“Julian!” she sobbed hysterically.
“Keep your head down!” I yelled over the ringing in my ears.
Within thirty seconds, the firefight was over. Arthur’s men were dead or incapacitated. The FBI flooded the floor.
Arthur, still blinded and disoriented, was crawling on his hands and knees, desperately searching for his dropped weapon.
Vance walked up to him and kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling on his back. She planted her boot firmly on his throat, her assault rifle aimed right between his eyes.
“Arthur Pendelton, you are under arrest,” she said coldly.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. We had won.
But as I reached over to untie my mother’s hands, a cold voice echoed from the shadows near the back of the warehouse.
“Not quite.”
The tactical team instantly raised their weapons, swiveling toward the darkness.
Footsteps echoed on the concrete. Slow. Methodical.
A figure emerged into the harsh glare of the construction lights.
He was holding a pump-action shotgun, perfectly leveled at Agent Vance’s back.
My heart completely stopped. My brain short-circuited.
It was a ghost.
It was my father.
May you like
Raymond Mercer. Alive. Breathing. And pointing a weapon at the FBI.
“Drop the rifle, Agent Vance,” my father said. His voice was completely calm. “Or I will blow a hole clean through you.”
