Chapter 8 - The Crossfire in Astoria
"Down!" Adrien roared.
In a single, fluid motion, he lunged forward, tackling Emily to the floor just as a deafening volley of automatic gunfire shattered the remaining living room windows. Glass exploded inward like a blinding wave of diamonds, chewing up the walls and riddling the kitchenette with lethal precision.
Plaster dust filled the air, choking and grey. Emily coughed, shielding her head with her arms as Adrien pulled her flat against the floorboards behind the heavy wooden frame of the overturned sofa.
"Roof access?" Emily gasped through the dust, her heart pounding against her ribs.
"Compromised," Adrien muttered, his eyes darting toward the shattered front window where two dark silhouettes in tactical gear were moving past the broken glass. "They tracked us from the docks. They knew we had the backups."
"They don't want the backups," Emily corrected, clutching the Pelican case tightly against her chest. "They want the original ledger signatures linking Vance directly to the municipal council. If those signatures go public, half the city's zoning board goes to federal prison by sunrise."
Adrien pulled a heavy, matte-black encrypted satellite phone from his jacket with his left hand, his right hand resting steadily on a sleek compact Beretta he had produced from a shoulder holster. There was no panic in his movements—only cold, calculated precision.
"Miller," Adrien spoke quietly into the comms device, his voice cutting through the distant sound of police sirens wailing two blocks away. "Basement egress, alley side. Now."
"Sir, the alley is boxed," Miller’s voice crackled back, tight and urgent. "Three un-marked units just cut off the north exit. We're pinned."
"Then un-box it," Adrien ordered flatly.
Before the echo of his voice had even faded, a deafening crash echoed from the front of the building. The sound of heavy metal tearing against wood signaled that a vehicle had just rammed straight through the front exterior wall, collapsing the entryway into a cloud of splintered timber and dust.
Emily squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the worst.
Through the haze of smoke and white dust, the headlights of the Maybach swept across the ruined living room floor. The passenger-side door swung wide open, framing Miller behind the wheel with his weapon drawn.
May you like
"Move!" Adrien shouted, grabbing Emily by the arm and hauling her upward.
They scrambled across the debris-strewn floor, diving headfirst through the open door of the Maybach as Miller slammed the accelerator to the floorboard. The heavy luxury sedan fishtailed violently on the shattered glass, its tires smoking as it tore out of the ruined apartment building and launched down the narrow Astoria street just as three tactical operatives stormed through the collapsed back door.
