Chapter 17 - The Midnight Ambush
Friday night arrived, bringing a thick, oppressive fog that rolled off the nearby river and swallowed Blackwood Airfield entirely. The abandoned tarmac was eerily silent, save for the low, rhythmic hum of a twin-engine prop plane idling near a rusted hangar.
Inside the dimly lit hangar, Marcus and Elias crouched behind a stack of old wooden crates. Hidden in the shadows of the surrounding woods and the rafters above were two dozen heavily armed FBI tactical agents, completely invisible in the darkness.
At exactly midnight, the crunch of gravel echoed down the long, unpaved access road. Two black SUVs drove onto the tarmac, their headlights cutting through the thick fog like knives.
The vehicles came to a halt near the idling plane. Four men stepped out of the first SUV, carrying heavy assault rifles. From the second vehicle, Victor Vance emerged.
He wore a long dark coat, his eyes scanning the foggy airstrip with predatory intensity. He held a silenced pistol loosely at his side.
"Where is she?" Victor barked, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet tarmac.
Elias stood up slowly from behind the crates, keeping his hands visible but away from his weapon. He stepped into the dim glow of the hangar's floodlights.
"Sarah Jenkins isn't coming, Victor," Elias called out, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "The money isn't here either. You’ve been played."
Victor’s eyes narrowed. He raised his pistol, aiming it directly at Elias’s chest. "Who the hell are you? Where is the cash?"
"There is no cash, Victor," Marcus said, stepping out from the shadows to stand beside Elias. "My wife’s parents lied to you. Heather lied to you. They manipulated you into doing their dirty work because they were too cowardly to face us themselves."
Victor laughed, a dry, grating sound. "You think I care about their family drama? I came here for a payday. If the money isn't here, I'll just put a bullet in both of your knees and force your lovely wife to transfer the funds to me."
He signaled his armed men to move forward.
Elias didn't flinch. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tactical radio.
"Take them down," Elias whispered into the mic.
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The dark, quiet airfield exploded into blinding, terrifying light. Dozens of high-powered tactical spotlights clicked on simultaneously, illuminating Victor and his men from every possible angle.
"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! GET ON THE GROUND!" a voice roared through a massive bullhorn.
