Chapter 25 - The Long Island Crossing
The night sky over New York was swallowed by churning, charcoal-colored storm clouds. Rain lashed against the reinforced ballistic windshield of the matte-black Suburban as it tore down the Long Island Expressway at ninety miles per hour.
Daniel sat in the front passenger seat, an encrypted tactical tablet strapped to his thigh. In the back, Emily was flanked by two silent, stone-faced security operatives wearing sterile tactical plate carriers and suppressed submachine guns.
Cross drove, his hands steady on the wheel, guiding the vehicle through the blinding downpour with effortless precision.
"Federal Marshal dispatch went completely dark six minutes ago," Cross reported, his voice cutting through the rumble of the twin-turbo V8 engine. "The local precinct in Glen Cove received a fraudulent 911 diversion reporting an active shooter at the local high school. Vanguard is clearing the board of all local law enforcement response."
Daniel zoomed in on the satellite topography of the safehouse—a sprawling, secluded estate tucked behind high iron gates near the rocky shores of the Sound.
"What is the defensive layout?" Daniel asked.
"Two U.S. Marshals stationed inside," Cross said grimly. "Two perimeter security contractors at the gatehouse. Against an elite corporate hit team using thermal optics and flash-suppressed carbines, those federal agents will last less than three minutes."
Emily leaned forward, checking the display. "If Vanguard has that kind of military-grade capability inside the United States, who is funding them? Who has that level of clearance?"
"A cartel of sovereign wealth funds and offshore private equity firms," Cross answered. "Men who control central bank debt. To them, the Sterling family is not a rival—we are an obstacle. Arthur’s Ares Project is a financial firewall designed to detect illegal algorithmic short-selling and weaponized market runs. If Ares is deployed, Vanguard’s multi-trillion-dollar illicit network collapses."
"And Vanessa was their golden ticket through the front door," Daniel muttered, his jaw aching from tension.
The Suburban suddenly veered off the paved expressway, tires screaming as Cross drifted onto a dark, unlit private coastal road. The dense canopy of pine and oak trees blocked out what little moonlight penetrated the clouds.
Up ahead, through the sweeping arcs of the windshield wipers, the high stone pillars of the safehouse gate appeared.
The wrought-iron gates were already swung wide open.
As the headlights swept across the entrance, Daniel saw the first sign of slaughter: the gatehouse window was shattered, spider-webbed with bullet impacts, and a lone figure in a federal uniform lay motionless on the wet gravel.
"We're too late," Emily gasped, her voice trembling.
"No," Daniel said, chambering a round into his sidearm with a sharp, mechanical click. "The gate lights are still flashing an emergency alert code. The breach happened within the last ninety seconds. Vanguard is still inside."
Cross killed the Suburban’s headlights, killed the engine, and let the heavy vehicle glide into the tree line, disappearing into the pitch-black shadows of the forest.
"Rules of engagement, Mr. Sterling?" the lead tactical operative behind Emily asked, his voice deadpan.
May you like
Daniel looked back at his sister, then checked his weapon. "Leave none of the syndicate's assassins standing. And keep Vanessa alive—no matter how much she screams."
***
