Chapter 11 - The Raid on Saint Anne’s
While the drama unfolded in the Manhattan penthouse,
the tactical extraction operation on Delancey Street was reaching its climax.
The three matte-black Hail Group SUVs slid silently to a halt in the shadowed rear alley behind Saint Anne’s Children’s Home.
The building was an imposing,
gothic-revival brick structure surrounded by rusted iron spikes and security cameras.
Marcus stepped out of the lead vehicle into the freezing pre-dawn air,
his tactical helmet secured and night-vision goggles flipped down over his eyes.
“All units,
form up on my mark,” Marcus ordered into his comms mic.
“Breach charges on the rear loading door.
”
Two operatives moved swiftly to the heavy steel door,
slapping magnetic thermal-lance charges against the locking mechanism.
“Three,
two,
one,
execute.
”
A muffled,
blinding flash of white light erupted against the steel.
The locking mechanism melted instantly into a pool of glowing slag.
With a sharp kick from Marcus’s heavy combat boot,
the door flew inward,
crashing against the concrete wall inside.
The tactical team flooded into the darkened hallway like a wave of dark shadows.
Alarms began to wail shrilly throughout the facility,
flashing red emergency lights casting eerie shadows across the peeling lead-paint walls.
“Security personnel moving in from the second-floor stairwell!” an operative warned over the radio.
“Hold your fire unless fired upon,” Marcus commanded calmly,
his assault rifle raised.
“We are here for extraction,
not a firefight.
”
Three corrupt private guards employed by Vance’s syndicate rushed around the corner,
reaching for their service weapons.
Before they could clear leather,
Hail’s operatives moved with blinding speed.
Tasers hissed in the confined hallway.
All three guards collapsed stiffly to the linoleum floor,
unconscious before they even hit the ground.
“Clear!” Marcus barked,
stepping over the fallen guards.
“Move to the fourth floor.
”
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“Target room is 404.
”
