Chapter 9 - THE AMBUSH AT HARBOR RUN
The sound of shattering industrial glass erupted from the ground floor of the warehouse.
Four flashbang grenades detonated in rapid succession, sending blinding white flashes and ear-splitting shockwaves tearing through the cavernous space.
The concussive blasts rattled the corrugated iron walls and blew out the frosted glass windows of Victor's office.
"Down!" Ava shouted, grabbing Victor by his collar and shoving him flat beneath the heavy oak desk.
Ryan was already at the doorway, his Heckler & Koch tracking the shadows of the repair bay below.
Through the drifting white chemical smoke, four tactical operatives in matte-black body armor were advancing in a tight diamond formation.
They carried suppressed short-barreled carbines equipped with high-intensity weapon lights.
The lead operator had a prominent gold lieutenant's bar painted on his ballistic helmet.
Ava recognized the posture immediately.
Lieutenant Craig.
Morris's right-hand enforcer and the commander of the tactical entry squad.
"They aren't issuing warnings," Ryan whispered, racking his slide.
"They’re here to liquidate the room."
A burst of suppressed automatic fire chewed through the thin plywood doorframe, sending splinters flying across the mezzanine.
Ryan fired three controlled rounds down the stairwell, driving the point man behind the steel hull of a dry-docked fishing trawler.
"We can't go down the main stairs!" Ava yelled over the deafening echoes of gunfire.
"The only exit on the ground floor is covered by their crossfire!"
Victor was curled into a ball beneath the desk, hyperventilating with his hands over his ears.
"We’re going to die here!" Victor cried out.
"Ryan, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"
Ryan grabbed his younger brother by the lapels of his jacket and hauled him to his feet with brute force.
"Shut your mouth and move your feet!" Ryan snarled into his face.
"If you want to apologize to this family, you survive tonight and testify against Morris!"
Ava reached into the pocket of her tactical vest and pulled out an emergency smoke canister she had taken from Arthur’s workshop.
She yanked the pin with her teeth and hurled the canister over the railing into the center of the boat bay.
A dense wall of thick, oily white smoke billowed outward, blinding the tactical team’s weapon lights and thermal scopes.
"Move to the emergency fire escape on the south wall!" Ava commanded.
Ava led the way out of the office, keeping low along the corrugated iron walkway.
From below, Lieutenant Craig shouted an order:
"FREE FIRE ZONE! DO NOT LET ANY TARGET REACH THE PIER!"
A hail of five-point-five-six rounds tore through the sheet metal beneath their feet.
The steel walkway buckled and shuddered under the kinetic impact.
Victor stumbled, his boot catching on a warped expansion joint.
He fell hard against the railing just as a burst of automatic fire ripped through the sheet metal where Ryan had been standing.
Victor looked up, saw the muzzle flash through the smoke, and threw his entire body sideways into Ryan's chest.
The bullet struck Victor in the upper right ribcage with a wet, sickening thud.
Victor let out a strangled gasp and collapsed against the iron floor, blood instantly soaking through his white shirt.
"Victor!" Ryan roared, catching his brother before he could roll off the edge of the mezzanine.
"I've got him!" Ava yelled, leaning over the railing and firing four rapid shots into the muzzle flash below.
One of the tactical operators dropped to the concrete floor, clutching his leg, while Craig was forced to dive behind a stack of industrial pallets.
Ava grabbed Victor by his tactical vest strap, helping Ryan drag the bleeding man through the heavy emergency exit door onto the exterior fire escape.
The cold harbor rain hit them like a bucket of ice water.
Thirty feet below, the black river churned against the wooden pilings of the pier.
Tied to the emergency mooring cleat at the base of the fire escape was an offshore twin-engine pursuit boat that Victor kept fueled for escapes.
"Get him down the ladder!" Ava shouted, covering the doorway as Craig’s men began kicking the fire door from the inside.
Ryan hoisted Victor over his shoulder, descending the metal rungs with desperate speed despite his own burned arm.
Ava fired her remaining three rounds through the door hinges, jamming the mechanism, before sliding down the wet iron rails to the floating dock.
Victor was lying on the deck of the boat, his lips pale and flecked with pink foam.
A tension pneumothorax was developing rapidly; the bullet had nicked his lung.
He reached up with trembling, bloody fingers and grabbed the lapel of Ava’s ballistic vest.
"Ava..." Victor whispered, his voice drowning in his own blood.
"Listen to me..."
"Save your strength, Victor," Ava said, pressing both hands over the entrance wound to seal the airflow.
"We're getting you to Arthur."
"No... listen..." Victor insisted, coughing weakly as he reached into the inner lining of his soaked leather jacket.
He pulled out a heavy brass key card stamped with the logo of the Sovereign Trust Bank in the downtown financial district.
Attached to the key card with clear tape was a handwritten six-digit alphanumeric code.
"Safety deposit box... four-one-two..." Victor gasped, forcing the plastic card into Ava’s palm.
"Morris didn't just launder cash through my shipping lines..."
"What is in that box, Victor?" Ava asked, leaning close to his lips.
"Mark's last dispatch recorder..." Victor breathed, his eyes beginning to roll back.
"And the personal ledger... containing every wire transfer... Morris ever made to the state prosecutors..."
"Morris made me keep it... as collateral... to ensure Ryan wouldn't kill him..."
Victor's hand slipped from Ava's vest, falling limp against the deck of the boat.
His breathing became shallow, rapid, and threadlike.
Ryan jumped into the center console, flipped the ignition toggle, and slammed both throttles forward.
The twin five-hundred-horsepower outboards roared to life, churning the black harbor water into a white vortex of foam.
The boat leaped forward into the storm, tearing through the waves just as Craig’s tactical shooters burst onto the fire escape above, spraying the wake with useless rifle fire.
Ava knelt beside Victor on the vibrating deck, maintaining pressure on his chest with one hand while holding the brass bank card tightly in the other.
She looked back at the receding skyline of the city, where the high-rise towers were shrouded in gray mist.
May you like
The key to bringing down the most powerful corrupt police official in the state was resting in her bloody fingers.
And dawn was only two hours away.
