Chapter 17 - The Burning Docks
Behind her, the operating theater exploded in an enormous fireball of ignited gas and shattered glass.
The shockwave hurled Evelyn forward onto the concrete pier, the heat searing the back of her tactical jacket. She rolled instantly, taking the brunt of the impact on her shoulder to shield Lily, who shrieked in terror against her chest.
"I’ve got you, Lily! I’ve got you!" Evelyn yelled over the roar of the flames.
Gunfire ripped across the docks.
The perimeter mercenaries were closing in from both flanks, tactical lights piercing through the thick river fog, bullets chewing through the wooden planks at her feet.
*Pkt-pkt-pkt-pkt!*
High-caliber rounds kicked up splinters around them. Evelyn ducked behind a stack of rusted steel shipping containers, returning fire in sharp, disciplined bursts, but she was outgunned, outflanked, and trapped with the freezing East River behind her.
"Drop your weapons and surrender the asset!" a voice boomed through a megaphone from the shadows. "You have nowhere to run!"
Suddenly, a blinding beam of marine searchlights cut through the mist from the water.
A high-speed tactical riverboat roared toward Pier 54, twin heavy machine guns mounted on its bow.
"Federal agents! Lay down your weapons!" a voice blasted over a military-grade PA system.
Before the mercenaries could react, the riverboat’s forward guns opened fire, hammering the shipping containers above the mercenaries' heads with non-lethal flash-rounds and heavy suppressing fire. The contractors scattered, throwing their assault rifles onto the docks as black-clad FBI SWAT teams leaped from the boat onto the pier.
Running at the head of the tactical unit, wearing an FBI tactical vest over his civilian clothes, was Daniel Bennett.
"Evie! Lily!" Daniel roared, sprinting toward them through the smoke, catching both of his daughters in an iron, weeping embrace that knocked them all to their knees. "I’m here! I’m here! You’re safe!"
Evelyn buried her head into her father’s shoulder, her hands trembling uncontrollably as Lily’s tiny fingers gripped Daniel’s lapels.
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Behind them, Warehouse 7 collapsed inward, a roaring funeral pyre swallowing Julian Vance and thirty years of stolen corporate sins into the dark waters of the bay.
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