Chapter 17
Blaring red emergency strobes pulsed rhythmically, turning the cold concrete corridors of the penitentiary into a terrifying, blood-soaked labyrinth. The heavy boots of approaching guards and the muffled shouts of panicked inmates echoed through the walls.
Grace moved with the liquid, silent grace of an apex predator, both hands gripping her pistol, her sharp eyes scanning every blind corner and intersection. Ethan followed closely behind her. Although he was a powerful billionaire in the boardroom, in this bloody, life-or-death crucible, he placed his absolute trust in the leadership of the woman in front of him.
"We can't go back to the interrogation room," Grace whispered as the sharp crack of suppressed gunfire echoed from the block they had just exited. "They’ve cut the camera feeds and are using silencers. This is a highly professional kill squad."
Two figures dressed in standard prison guard uniforms rounded the far end of the hallway, but their tactical footwork and the way they held their weapons immediately betrayed their true identities. Grace did not hesitate for a microsecond. She leaned out from the corner and fired two perfectly placed shots. The disguised assassins dropped to the linoleum floor instantly, neutralized before they could pull a trigger.
"My phone has no signal," Ethan grunted, looking at the black screen of his encrypted satellite phone. "They’re using localized signal jammers."
"They are isolating this sector to operate without interference," Grace analyzed rapidly. She quickly looted a submachine gun and spare magazines from one of the dead assassins. "Their primary target is Sabrina, but if they spot us, they won't leave witnesses. Mr. Caldwell, we need to find access to the subterranean utility tunnels."
As they hurried down a concrete fire escape, a massive explosion shook the entire cell block. The reinforced door to the interrogation room where Sabrina was held had been blown completely off its hinges with a shaped charge.
"She’s dead," Ethan said, his face hardening at the sheer ruthlessness of the mysterious organization.
Grace remained silent. She led the way down the dark, concrete stairs. The basement of Rikers Island was a sprawling maze of massive water pipes and heavy electrical cables, smelling strongly of mold and rust.
Suddenly, a hail of submachine gun fire shredded the concrete wall directly above their heads, raining sharp rock dust down upon them.
"We’re flanked!" Grace shoved Ethan hard behind a massive industrial water main, simultaneously raising her MP5 to unleash a heavy burst of suppressing fire.
Three assassins equipped with night-vision goggles were advancing from two different tunnels. In the tight, suffocating confines of the basement, the enemy’s firepower was overwhelming.
"Mr. Caldwell, when I count to three, sprint straight toward that iron door marked 'Pressure Valve Room' at the end of the hall!" Grace shouted over the deafening roar of ricocheting bullets. "Do not look back!"
"What about you?!" Ethan roared back, refusing to abandon a woman who was risking her life as his shield.
"This is what you pay me for!" Grace yelled, her eyes blazing with fierce determination. "One... Two... Three! Move!"
Ethan sprinted like a bullet. Simultaneously, Grace vaulted out of cover, sliding across the damp concrete floor while firing both weapons in a continuous, deafening barrage of covering fire. Her elite special forces training took over completely. She aimed not at the men, but directly at the high-pressure steam pipes running along the low ceiling right above the assassins.
The bullets pierced the steel casing, violently rupturing the pipes. A massive, roaring geyser of scalding, high-pressure steam erupted into the corridor. The boiling white fog slammed into the assassins, blinding their optics and causing them to scream in agonizing pain as they lost all sense of direction.
Using the distraction, Grace fell back, sprinting after Ethan into the pressure room and barricading the heavy iron door with a steel pry bar.
"We are safe for about two minutes," Grace panted, leaning against the heavy door as it rattled under the desperate attempts to breach it from the outside. "We need an exit."
May you like
Ethan looked around the sweltering utility room, his eyes locking onto a faded schematic of the drainage system bolted to the wall. "There is an old, decommissioned storm drain that empties directly into the East River. If we dive through the spillway, we can bypass their entire blockade."
Grace looked at the billionaire, a faint, appreciative smile touching her lips. "I hope you don't mind getting your bespoke suit dirty, Mr. Caldwell."
