Chapter 7 - Surgical Precision
The shipping yard was a desolate wasteland of rusted containers and shadows.
The rain had turned into a freezing drizzle, soaking through my coat as I walked alone toward Pier 44.
Daniel was hiding in the shadows a few hundred yards back, coordinating with his federal contacts.
A black SUV sat idling at the end of the pier, its headlights cutting through the heavy fog.
Two men stepped out of the vehicle, holding heavy assault rifles across their chests.
Agent Harris stepped out from the passenger side, a smug smile plastered across his face.
They dragged a bruised and crying Brooke out of the back seat.
"Emily! I am so sorry, please help me!" she sobbed, struggling against her captors.
"Shut up," Harris snapped, pressing a pistol to the back of her head.
He turned his cold gaze to me.
"You brought the drive, Doctor?"
"I have it," I said, holding up the diamond bracelet in the beam of the headlights.
"Let her go first."
"That is not how negotiations work," Harris laughed darkly.
"Bring it here."
I walked forward slowly, keeping my eyes locked on Harris’s neck.
I calculated the distance to his carotid artery.
As I reached out to hand him the bracelet, his attention shifted to the glittering jewelry.
In one fluid, practiced motion, I dropped the bracelet and drove the concealed syringe directly into the side of his neck.
I pushed the plunger down instantly.
Harris gasped, his eyes widening in pure shock as the potent paralytic flooded his bloodstream.
Before his guards could raise their weapons, his knees buckled and he collapsed heavily against the SUV, dropping his gun.
"He is paralyzed, not dead, but he will stop breathing in two minutes if I do not give him the antidote!" I shouted at the guards.
May you like
The guards froze, unsure whether to shoot me or help their dying boss.
I had created the perfect medical hostage situation.
