Chapter 7 - The Hostage Exchange
The decommissioned naval dry dock loomed out of the fog like a rusted fortress. Massive iron doors sealed the main warehouse, illuminated by harsh halogen floodlights.
Sarah Bennett walked slowly up the cracked concrete access road.
She wore her black blazer, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. The humid night air plastered her hair to her forehead, but her expression was perfectly composed. She carried a silver aluminum briefcase handcuffed to her left wrist.
High above, on a rusted gantry crane, a laser sight swept across her chest.
“Stop right there!” a voice boomed over a loudspeaker.
Sarah stopped. She held up her empty right hand. “My name is Sarah Bennett. I am Dominic Caruso’s personal assistant. I have the digital bearer bonds and the transfer codes for the entire Caruso portfolio.”
The heavy iron doors of the warehouse screeched open.
Camille stepped out into the floodlights. She was flanked by two massive men holding assault rifles. Camille wore a smug, victorious smile, completely unbothered by the damp Miami heat.
“Sarah,” Camille called out, laughing softly. “Dominic sent his secretary? Where is my coward of a husband?”
“Mr. Caruso is currently arranging a flight to non-extradition territory,” Sarah lied flawlessly, projecting her voice. “He has agreed to your terms. Total surrender of the empire, in exchange for the girl.”
Camille gestured for her to come closer.
Sarah walked forward, stopping ten feet from the armed men. Through the open warehouse doors, she could see a young woman—Isabella—tied to a chair, crying softly. Beside her stood another armed guard. Two more were positioned on the catwalks above.
Six targets, Sarah thought. Just like the GPS said.
“Open the briefcase,” Camille demanded, pulling a suppressed pistol from her designer jacket.
“I need to see the girl released first,” Sarah countered, holding her ground.
Camille’s smile vanished. She raised the pistol and pointed it directly at Sarah’s head. “You don't negotiate, Sarah. You take notes and fetch coffee. Now open the case before I paint the concrete with your brains.”
Sarah didn’t flinch. She slowly raised her right hand to the combination lock on the briefcase.
Behind the warehouse, the black waters of the canal rippled silently.
Antonio Caruso pulled himself up over the concrete ledge, water dripping from his clothes, his shotgun strapped to his back. Dominic and Robert surfaced right behind him, silenced pistols drawn. While Sarah held the attention of the guards in the front, they had swam the perimeter.
Dominic signaled with two fingers. Robert took the left catwalk. Antonio took the right. Dominic moved toward the guard watching Isabella.
Back in the floodlights, Sarah clicked the first dial of the briefcase. Three.
“Hurry up,” Camille snapped.
Sarah clicked the second dial. Two.
Inside the warehouse, Robert slipped behind the sniper on the left catwalk. He clamped a hand over the man's mouth and drove a combat knife into his kidney. The man went limp instantly.
Sarah clicked the third dial. One.
Antonio leveled his shotgun at the guard on the right catwalk.
Dominic stepped out from the shadows directly behind the man guarding Isabella. He wrapped a wire garrote around the guard's throat, pulling him backward into the darkness without a sound.
“The lock is jammed,” Sarah lied, looking up at Camille.
Camille rolled her eyes in frustration. She stepped forward, gesturing angrily to the two guards beside her. “Grab the case from her and cut her hand off if you have to.”
The two men stepped toward Sarah.
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The trap was set.
Sarah hit the hidden release button on the briefcase handle. The briefcase didn't pop open. Instead, a high-intensity magnesium flashbang, wired into the lining of the case, detonated with the brilliance of a miniature sun.
