Chapter 18 - The Night Raid
The private airfield was cloaked in darkness, rain lashing against the tarmac in a sudden, violent storm.
Our federal helicopters flew low, running dark without any navigation lights to avoid radar detection.
Through my night-vision goggles, I saw Richard’s sleek, black extraction chopper waiting on the runway.
Two armed mercenaries stood near the spinning rotors, holding high-powered rifles and scanning the perimeter.
I gave the signal to my pilot, and our helicopters suddenly flared upward, spotlighting the runway with blinding halogen beams.
"FBI! Drop your weapons!" my voice boomed through the external megaphone, cutting through the sound of the storm.
The mercenaries panicked, raising their rifles toward the blinding lights.
My tactical team did not give them a chance to fire.
A synchronized volley of non-lethal rubber ordnance brought both men crashing down onto the wet asphalt.
We repelled from the helicopters, our boots hitting the tarmac in perfect unison.
I sprinted toward the extraction chopper, my weapon drawn, sweeping the interior.
The pilot raised his hands instantly, terrified out of his mind.
But Richard Sterling was not inside.
He had sent a decoy team, anticipating that Arthur might have been compromised by the FBI.
I cursed loudly, slamming my fist against the side of the helicopter.
My radio crackled to life with Agent Miller’s urgent voice.
"Clara, satellite tracking shows Richard’s yacht is already moving fast, attempting to cross the maritime border."
He was slipping through our fingers.
May you like
I ordered the tactical team back into our helicopters immediately.
We were going to chase him into the ocean.
