Chapter 9 - The Bridge Confrontation
The rain fell in a torrential sheet, washing over the slick asphalt of the Queensboro Bridge exit ramp. Cars were stopped behind them, their horns blaring in confusion, but the drivers remained inside, terrified by the sudden violence of the crash.
Nadia looked at her daughter. Mila's eyes were wide with a terror that no eleven-year-old should ever know, but she didn't scream. She looked at her mother, her small face determined.
"The drive is in my pocket, Miller," Nadia said, her voice rising above the sound of the rain and the horns. She reached into her jacket, her fingers closing around the cold steel of the drive. "Take it. Just let her go."
"Throw it over," Miller demanded, his knife never moving from Mila’s throat. "And don't try any tricks. My man has his finger on the trigger of an automatic rifle. If you move, he clears the van."
Nadia slowly pulled her hand out of her pocket. But she didn't hold the drive.
She held Hale’s backup weapon—a small, polymer-frame Walther PPS that Hale had kept concealed in the center console of the van.
"Mom, jump!" Mila screamed.
Mila didn't wait. She threw her weight backward, biting Miller's hand with all her strength. Miller grunted in pain, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second.
Nadia fired twice.
The rounds struck Miller in the chest. He stepped back, his eyes wide with shock as he fell over the concrete barrier of the ramp, disappearing into the dark, rushing waters of the East River below.
The second mercenary raised his rifle, but Hale—bleeding from her shoulder—threw herself out of the driver's side door, firing three rapid shots. The mercenary fell to the ground, his weapon clattering across the wet pavement.
Sirens echoed from both sides of the bridge as several black government SUVs, bearing the seals of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, swerved around the stalled traffic, their tires screeching on the wet asphalt.
Elena Vance stepped out of the lead vehicle, flanked by a dozen heavily armed tactical agents.
"Secure the perimeter!" Elena ordered, rushing toward the van. She looked at Nadia, then at Hale. "Are you alright?"
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Nadia crawled out of the shattered door, collapsing onto the wet pavement as she pulled Mila into her arms, holding her so tight she could feel her daughter's heart beating against her chest.
"We have the drive, Elena," Nadia said, handing the silver device to the federal prosecutor. "The real one. It’s over."
