Chapter 13 - The Cavalry

Just as Captain Harris’s finger tightened on the trigger, a deafening, mechanical roar shattered the morning air.
It wasn’t a car engine. It was coming from above.
A massive, matte-black helicopter crested the top of the rusted cranes, its searchlights blazing to life and blinding everyone on the ground. The violent downdraft kicked up a localized blizzard of snow and dirt, forcing Thorne’s men to shield their eyes and stumble backward.
Over the roaring rotors, a digitally amplified voice thundered from a loudspeaker: “FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION. DROP YOUR WEAPONS IMMEDIATELY. LETHAL FORCE IS AUTHORIZED.”
Elena grabbed Sarah by the collar and dragged her aggressively behind the solid engine block of the police cruiser just as all hell broke loose.
Captain Harris panicked. Instead of dropping his shotgun, he raised it toward the helicopter. It was a fatal mistake.
A sniper in the chopper fired a single, suppressed heavy-caliber round. The bullet struck the engine block of Harris’s SUV, exploding the radiator in a massive cloud of steam and shrapnel, knocking the corrupt captain off his feet.
Simultaneously, three unmarked black vans crashed through the chain-link fence at the perimeter of the railyard. Heavily armed FBI SWAT operators poured out, forming a tactical perimeter in seconds.
Thorne’s mercenaries didn't even try to fight. Facing the overwhelming force of federal tactical units, they threw their rifles into the snow and dropped to their knees, hands laced behind their heads.
Marcus Thorne, however, refused to surrender. He scrambled back toward his idling sedan, desperate to escape.
Elena wasn't going to let that happen. She broke cover, sprinting through the swirling snow and steam. As Thorne grabbed the door handle of his car, Elena launched herself forward, tackling the massive man into a snowbank.
May you like
Thorne roared, throwing an elbow that clipped Elena’s jaw, but the adrenaline masked the pain. She twisted his arm violently behind his back, driving her knee into his spine.
“Marcus Thorne,” Elena spat, snapping the heavy steel cuffs around his wrists. “You have the right to remain silent. I highly suggest you use it.”