Chapter 14 - Crossfire and Deliverance
The world on Pier 4 detonated into complete, catastrophic chaos.
"Kill them!" Mercer shrieked, his voice cracking into a hysterical, psychotic frenzy.
"Kill all of them right now!"
The two private security operators behind Lily raised their automatic carbines to spray the open asphalt.
Before their fingers could depress the triggers, the sharp, thunderous crack of a high-powered hunting rifle shattered the harbor drizzle.
A heavy .30-06 round punched directly through the shoulder of the gunman on the right, throwing him violently backward onto the wet pavement.
A split second later, a second shot tore through the forearm of the second mercenary, sending his weapon clattering across the asphalt.
From his perch fifty feet above the pier, Detective James Collins was executing surgical, non-lethal strikes with terrifying precision.
"Down!" Luca roared, throwing his entire body toward Maya.
Luca wrapped his massive frame around her, tackling her to the ground just as Mercer fired two wild shots from his chrome revolver.
The heavy lead slugs ricocheted off the reinforced ceramic trauma plates in Luca's back with deafening metallic cracks.
Luca didn't even groan.
He rolled across the wet pavement, drawing his customized semi-automatic pistol from beneath his coat in a single, fluid blur.
Luca fired four rapid shots directly into the engine block of Mercer’s municipal cruiser, rupturing the fuel lines and blinding the surrounding area with thick clouds of hissing steam.
"Get Lily!" Luca roared over the deafening noise.
Maya scrambled across the freezing asphalt on her hands and knees, ignoring the stinging scrapes on her palms and knees.
She reached the metal folding chair where Lily was thrashing in panic.
Maya grabbed the combat knife Luca had slipped into her boot before they left the marsh.
With a single, vicious swipe of the serrated blade, Maya severed the industrial zip-ties binding her sister's wrists.
She ripped the duct tape from Lily’s mouth.
"Maya!" Lily screamed, throwing her arms around her older sister in hysterical, trembling terror.
"Maya, he's crazy! He's going to kill us!"
"I've got you, Lily! I've got you!" Maya yelled, hauling her sister to her feet and shoving her behind the heavy steel wheel of an abandoned industrial forklift.
"Stay down! Cover your head!"
Across the pier, David Mercer was scrambling toward the edge of the ferry slip like a hunted animal.
His tailored uniform coat was covered in black soot and road grime.
His eyes were wide, rolling with the wild, unhinged terror of an untouchable king realizing his throne was made of matchsticks.
"Where are my units?!" Mercer screamed into his lapel radio, his voice choking on panic and rain.
"Squad four! Move in! Clear the pier!"
The radio crackled back with a calm, unfamiliar voice speaking with crisp federal authority.
"Captain Mercer, this is Special Agent Harris of the FBI Inspector General’s Task Force."
"All Ghost Detail auxiliary units have been disarmed and placed in federal custody at the perimeter."
"Step away from the water and raise your hands."
Mercer let out a strangled shriek of fury and threw the radio into the black harbor water.
He turned, leveling his chrome revolver at the forklift where Maya and Lily were huddled together.
"If I burn, Collins, your daughters burn with me!" Mercer roared, stepping forward with his finger tightening on the trigger.
Suddenly, a shadow vaulted over the hood of the steaming cruiser with terrifying speed.
Luca Bellini slammed into Mercer like a freight train.
The impact broke two of Mercer’s ribs with an audible snap, sending the older man crashing into the rusted chain-link fence.
The chrome revolver went flying through the air, splashing harmlessly into the saltwater forty feet below.
Luca pinned Mercer against the iron fencing with one massive forearm across the captain's throat, lifting the older man until his polished boots dangled three inches off the asphalt.
Luca’s dark eyes burned with pure, ancient Sicilian fury.
"You threatened my son," Luca growled, his voice a low, vibrating promise of death.
"You pointed a gun at the woman who brought truth back into my household."
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't snap your neck and feed you to the harbor crabs right now."
Mercer gasped for air, his face turning a deep, suffocating purple under the crushing pressure on his windpipe.
"Luca... please..." Mercer choked out, his arrogance completely gone, replaced by pathetic, groveling desperation.
"I can give you the accounts... fifty million... all yours..."
"I don't need your dirty blood money, Mercer," Luca spat, his fingers tightening.
"My family built an empire with our own hands."
"Luca! Stop!"
The voice came from the foot of the grain elevator stairs.
James Collins walked out of the darkness onto the illuminated pier, his hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.
His scarred face was soaked with rain, his dark eyes fixed on the man who had stolen eighteen years of his life.
Luca looked over his shoulder at the former detective.
Slowly, Luca lowered Mercer back to the pavement, keeping him pinned against the fence with one hand.
James walked across the pier with slow, deliberate steps until he stood two feet away from his former partner.
David Mercer slid down against the rusted chain-link, clutching his broken ribs and gasping for air.
He looked up into the scarred, weathered face of James Collins as if staring directly into the eyes of the Grim Reaper.
"James..." Mercer wheezed, blood flecking his lips.
"You survived..."
"I survived because Anthony Bellini had more honor in his little finger than you had in your entire department, David," James said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
James reached into his pocket and pulled out the tarnished, scratched gold shield numbered 4419.
He tossed the heavy metal badge onto the wet asphalt, where it landed with a loud clatter directly between Mercer’s polished boots.
"Eighteen years ago, you took my name."
"You took my daughters' childhood."
"You took my wife's life."
"And you buried this badge in the dirt."
Overhead, the clouds tore open as three massive federal tactical helicopters descended through the mist, their blinding white searchlights illuminating the entire pier like high noon.
Dozens of federal tactical operators in full green body armor swept across the asphalt from the warehouse access roads, assault rifles raised.
"David Mercer," James said, stepping back to stand beside his two daughters.
May you like
"You are under arrest for the murder of Elena Vance."
"And your shift is officially over."
