Chapter 6- The Siege of Downtown Crossing
At 7:45 AM, three sleek black State Police cruisers rolled up to the iron gates of the Beacon Hill estate, their red and blue lights flashing silently against the morning mist.
Behind them came two armored Kesler Suburbans.
Stefan stepped out of the front entrance, wearing a dark charcoal Italian suit, a dark silk tie, and a full-length wool overcoat. Beside him was Elena, dressed in a sharp black pant suit, holding the heavy tactical backpack containing the satellite drive and the ledger.
Titan walked beside them, his tactical harness tightened, his head held high, his gait confident and imposing despite his mended shoulder.
Jonas stepped out of the lead Suburban, holding a heavy radio. "State Police commander says the route to Downtown Crossing is clear, but traffic on Washington Street is blocked due to an 'unannounced utility repair'."
"It’s an ambush site," Stefan said instantly, his eyes narrowing. "Liam knows we have to pass Washington Street to reach the Federal Reserve."
"Should we change the route?" Jonas asked.
"No," Stefan commanded, his voice turning into cold iron. "We go straight through. If Liam wants a war on Washington Street, we’ll give him one."
The convoy pulled out of Beacon Hill, the police cruisers leading the way through the narrow, snow-slicked streets.
As the vehicles reached the intersection of Washington and Winter Street in the heart of Downtown Crossing, the lead police cruiser suddenly slammed on its brakes. A massive yellow construction dump truck pulled out from an alleyway, blocking the three-lane road entirely.
From the rooftops and second-story shop windows along Washington Street, armed men in dark winter coats emerged, raising automatic rifles.
"Ambush! Down!" Jonas screamed over the radio.
TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK!
A rain of heavy caliber bullets peppered the armored plating of the Kesler Suburbans, shattering the reinforced glass of the police cruisers. Pedestrians on the sidewalks screamed, scattering into nearby department stores as the downtown corridor erupted into an all-out war zone.
Inside the second Suburban, Stefan immediately pulled Elena down onto the floorboards, covering her body with his broad frame, his heavy overcoat shielding her from glass splinters.
Titan let out a deafening, furious roar inside the vehicle, his front paws slamming against the leather seats as he tried to reach the windows.
"Jonas!" Stefan barked into his lapel mic. "Flank right! Move the secondary team through the department store arcade!"
"On it!" Jonas shouted back over the deafening noise of gunfire.
Stefan reached under his seat, pulling out a heavy, black Sig Sauer pistol and three spare magazines. He looked down at Elena, who was holding the tactical backpack tight against her chest, her eyes wide but devoid of panic.
"Stay in the vehicle until I clear the lobby," Stefan commanded her.
"Stefan, be careful!" she cried, gripping his arm.
Stefan offered a dark, lethal smile. "I'm always careful."
He kicked the heavy armored door open, stepping out into the street as bullets struck the metal frame.
With lethal precision, Stefan fired three rapid shots toward a shooter on a second-story fire escape, sending the man tumbling twenty feet down onto the snowy pavement. Kesler shooters poured out of the trailing Suburbans, returning heavy suppressive fire, turning Washington Street into a roaring furnace of tactical movement.
Titan charged out of the open door behind Stefan.
The massive mastiff didn't hesitate. He sprinted across the snow-slush street toward a shooter who was reloading behind a mail truck. Titan leaped, his three hundred pounds hitting the shooter’s chest like a bowling ball, bringing the man down onto the pavement, his massive jaws crushing the gun arm before the man could even scream.
"Move up!" Stefan roared, advancing behind the moving wall of his armored vehicle, clearing the entrance to the Federal Reserve building step by step.
Within four minutes of total, chaotic violence, six O’Leary shooters lay dead or incapacitated on the street. The remaining attackers, realizing they were completely outmatched by Kesler's disciplined tactical teams, fled into the subway tunnels below the city.
Stefan reloaded his weapon, tossing the empty magazine into the slush. He walked over to the Suburban, opening the door, and held out his gloved hand to Elena.
May you like
"Miss Vance," Stefan said, his breath pluming white in the freezing air. "Your appointment at the bank is in five minutes."
Elena took his hand, stepping out over the shattered glass, her head held high, her hand holding the backpack, protected by the man and the dog who had rewritten her destiny.
