Chapter 18 - THE STRIKE IN THE SUNLIGHT
Before the assassin could draw his weapon, Elena flipped her silver tray with lightning speed, slamming its edge into his throat.
The heavy silver crashed upward with bone-crushing impact, sending the man sprawling backward over his velvet-upholstered chair.
The second assassin drew his pistol instantly, but Marcus's bodyguards dropped from the upper balcony catwalk with military precision.
Two muffled suppressed shots popped through the air, followed by the heavy thud of bodies hitting the pristine white marble floor.
Panic erupted among the civilian patrons, who scrambled toward the exit doors in a wave of chaotic shrieks.
Elena stood over the twitching assassin, her breathing calm, her hair updo still perfectly intact without a single stray strand.
She reached inside the fallen man's jacket, pulling out an encrypted satellite phone flashing a blinking red beacon.
"They were broadcasting our exact GPS coordinates to an offshore mothership in the Atlantic," Elena reported into her earpiece.
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Marcus walked down the grand staircase, stepping smoothly over the overturned chairs with his cigar clamped between his teeth.
"Trace the signal back to its source, and let's introduce the Odessa Syndicate to American hospitality," Marcus commanded coldly.
