Chapter 16 - The Trap Closes
Back in the penthouse study, I watched the thermal imaging cameras mounted in the basement hallways. I saw Dmitri Rostov pinning Graham and Julian behind the concrete pillars, waiting for his second operative to flank them from the maintenance tunnel.
I pressed the master intercom button connected to the building's automated fire suppression system.
“Graham, duck,” I whispered into the mic.
Down in the basement, Graham instantly caught the coded warning and threw himself flat onto the concrete floor alongside Julian.
A second later, I triggered the override. High-pressure industrial water cannons mounted in the ceiling burst open, flooding the sub-basement corridor with thousands of gallons of freezing, high-velocity water mixed with a blinding aqueous foam.
Dmitri Rostov screamed as the icy torrent slammed into him with the force of a tidal wave, blinding his tactical goggles and short-circuiting his weapon’s laser sight. Before he could recover his footing, Graham sprang forward through the freezing spray, tackling Dmitri to the wet concrete and slamming a pair of heavy tactical zip-ties around his wrists.
The second operative, emerging from the maintenance tunnel, raised his assault rifle toward Graham’s back.
I didn't hesitate. I opened the study window overlooking the alleyway, raised my Browning 9mm, and fired a warning shot straight into the brick wall three inches above the operative's head, the sharp crack echoing through the rainy night.
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“Drop the weapon!” I shouted down through the rain, my voice carrying absolute authority.
The operative froze, looked up at the window, and saw a sixty-four-year-old grandmother holding a smoking pistol with absolute unyielding poise. He slowly lowered his rifle to the wet asphalt and raised his hands.
