Chapter 18 - The Ambush On Fifth Avenue
At 11:45 AM, a black Ford Explorer pulled up to the curb directly in front of the Swiss Consulate entrance.
The driver’s side door opened, and a woman wearing a white trench coat stepped out holding a leather baby carrier.
Instantly, the lead sniper on the department store roof adjusted his rifle, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"Target acquired at entrance," the sniper whispered into his radio headset. "Permission to engage?"
"Take the shot," Dominick’s cold, raspy voice commanded over the radio frequency from his Bentley down the alley.
Before the sniper could squeeze the trigger, a quiet whistle sliced through the morning air across Fifth Avenue.
A high-velocity round from Sarah’s suppressed rifle shattered the glass window, striking the sniper directly in the shoulder.
He collapsed backward onto the gravel roof, his rifle sliding harmlessly off the ledge into the gutter below.
Simultaneously, Sam’s two Marines rushed the parked delivery van near the curb, ripping open the side sliding door.
They deployed two flashbang grenades inside the vehicle, filling the street with deafening detonations and white smoke.
The two mercenaries inside the van dropped their weapons, disoriented and screaming as the Marines cuffed them to the steering wheel.
Pedestrians on Fifth Avenue scattered in terror, screaming as the sudden tactical operation erupted on the sidewalk.
Inside his dark blue Bentley near St. Patrick's Cathedral, seventy-two-year-old Dominick Miller watched his monitors go dark.
"What is happening out there?!" Dominick roared at his driver, his weathered, scarred face contorted in furious rage.
"The snipers are down! The van isn't responding, boss!" the driver panicked, shifting the Bentley into drive.
"Get us out of here now! Drive to the Brooklyn hideout!" Dominick ordered, grabbing his silver-handled cane.
Before the Bentley could accelerate out of the alleyway, a heavy iron dumpster was shoved into the path of the car.
The front bumper of the Bentley slammed into the dumpster with a violent metallic crunch, deploying the airbags instantly.
The driver groaned, slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious from the violent impact of the collision.
Dominick coughed through the white powder dust, coughing violently as he reached for a revolver in his coat pocket.
The rear passenger door of the Bentley was violently ripped open from the outside by a gloved hand.
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Sarah stood in the rain, wearing her dark jacket, holding a suppressed handgun pointed directly at Dominick's chest.
"Looking for me, Uncle Dominick?" Sarah asked, her voice dropping into a cold, lethal whisper that stopped his heart.
