Chapter 8 - The Siege of the Home
I didn't waste time on Richard. I grabbed the blue folder from the desk, shoved it into my jacket, and kicked Richard's gun under the heavy bookcase before diving behind the leather armchair as the front door was kicked off its hinges.
BOOM!
The heavy wooden door splintered inward, and three figures in dark tactical gear flooded into the hallway, led by Detective Vance.
They were carrying short-barreled automatic rifles equipped with tactical lights. The bright white beams swept across the living room walls, cutting through the shadows.
"Check the study!" Vance's voice barked from the hallway. "The judge is in there!"
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the secondary Glock I had drawn earlier, and waited for the first light beam to cross the doorway.
The first shooter stepped into the frame, his rifle raised.
I fired twice from behind the armchair.
BANG! BANG!
Both rounds hit him in the thigh and pelvis—the unarmored gaps below his tactical vest. He screamed, dropping his rifle and collapsing against the doorframe.
"Suppression fire!" Vance roared.
A wall of automatic gunfire tore through the study walls. Plaster, wood splinters, and torn book pages rained down over me as I stayed low behind the solid mahogany desk. The deafening noise echoed like thunder in the enclosed space.
I pulled the pin on the second shooter's weapon—a flashbang grenade I had managed to pull off the gunman I killed at the warehouse—and cooked it for one second before rolling it out into the hallway.
BANG-FLASH!
A blinding white light and a three-hundred-decibel shockwave erupted in the narrow corridor.
Screams of disorientation echoed from Vance's men.
I moved immediately. I popped up over the desk, sighted the second shooter who was clutching his blinded eyes, and dropped him with a single shot to the center mass.
Vance was smarter. He retreated toward the front porch, firing blind bursts through the drywall as he backed out into the rain.
I ran into the hallway, stepped over the two downed mercenaries, and pursued Vance out onto the front lawn.
The storm was at its peak now. Sheet lightning illuminated the suburban street in harsh, strobing white flashes. Rain poured down in heavy curtains, turning the grass into slippery mud.
Vance was sprinting toward his unmarked black cruiser parked at the curb.
"Vance!" I roared over the thunder.
He spun around, firing his pistol wild.
A bullet clipped my cheek, leaving a searing line of fire, but I didn't stop. I closed the distance between us like a rabid dog, tackling him around the waist, bringing both of us crashing down onto the flooded lawn.
We rolled through the mud, punching, clawing, fighting for control of his weapon.
Vance was heavy, fueled by pure survival panic. He slammed his elbow into my injured shoulder, sending a spike of agony through my nervous system, and managed to push me off him. He scrambled to his feet, raising his gun to finish me.
"Die, you bastard!" he screamed.
Before he could pull the trigger, the sharp wail of multiple police sirens shattered the storm.
Red and blue strobe lights flashed through the rain from both ends of the street.
Four marked state police cruisers roared around the corner, mounting the curbs, blocking the street, their high beams pinning Vance in a circle of blinding white light.
"STATE POLICE! DROP THE WEAPON! DROP IT NOW!" a loudspeaker boomed over the rain.
Marcus. My friend from the forensic unit had come through. When I hadn't checked in after forty-five minutes, he had dispatched the state tactical unit to my address.
Vance froze, his gun pointed at me, his face illuminated by thirty law enforcement headlights.
"Put it down, Vance!" Marcus shouted from behind the door of the lead cruiser, his rifle trained on the detective. "We have the warehouse secure! We have the offshore records from your office! It's over!"
Vance looked at the state troopers surrounding him. He looked down at me, covered in mud and blood, standing slowly from the grass, holding the blue folder in my hand.
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He knew it was over.
With a raspy scream of utter defeat, Vance dropped his pistol into the mud and raised his hands into the air.
