Chapter 9 - The Extraction
The deafening ringing in my ears completely drowned out the sound of the ensuing firefight.
I shielded Leo with my body, burying my face into the muddy concrete wall to avoid the flying debris.
The FBI tactical team moved with lethal, practiced precision through the smoke-filled tunnel.
They neutralized the cartel mercenaries in less than ten seconds without taking a single casualty.
Strong hands grabbed my shoulders and forcefully pulled me up from the filthy water.
"Are you hit, ma'am?" a heavily armored agent shouted over the lingering echoes of gunfire.
"No, we are okay," I gasped, coughing up the thick gray dust of the explosion.
The agent quickly checked Leo for bleeding, nodding in approval when he saw my son was safe.
"We have been tracking your father's criminal network for three straight years," the agent explained rapidly.
"When your son's smartwatch sent that SOS, it flagged a keyword in our federal surveillance database."
Another agent dragged a handcuffed, crying Jackson out of the shadows and pushed him toward our group.
"Move out, the structural integrity of this tunnel is failing!" the squad leader commanded sharply.
We scrambled through the massive hole they had blown into the concrete wall.
The hole led directly into an abandoned subway station that had been closed off from the public for decades.
A fleet of unmarked black federal SUVs was parked securely on the old train platform.
They rushed us into the back of a heavily armored vehicle with bulletproof glass and thick steel doors.
An agent threw a thick woolen blanket over my shoulders and handed me a bottle of clean water.
I wrapped the blanket tightly around Leo, holding him close as the SUV engine roared to life.
We sped through the underground service tunnels, finally breaking out into the cool, rainy night air.
I looked out the reinforced window and watched the city lights blur past us in a comforting streak.
We had survived the impossible, and my father's entire corrupt empire was finally going to burn.
Jackson sat quietly on the opposite bench, staring down at his muddy shoes in deep shame.
"I am sorry I told them where you were," Jackson whispered, tears cutting clean lines through the dirt on his face.
I did not forgive him, but I reached out and gently patted his knee anyway.
"It is over now, Jackson," I said softly, leaning my head back against the leather seat.
The FBI lead agent climbed into the passenger seat and turned back to look at me with a warm smile.
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"You did incredibly well tonight, ma'am," the agent praised, handing me a small satellite phone.
"You have a very important phone call waiting on a secure federal line."
