Chapter 10 - Breaking The Perimeter
The security gate loomed ahead, a towering chain-link barrier topped with coils of razor wire and a heavy motorized arm. Vance didn't slow down. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator, driving the unmarked cruiser straight through the wooden access barrier with a deafening crunch of splintered plastic and shattered glass.
The car bounced over the gravel shoulder and careened onto the private airfield’s access road, tires kicking up dirt and stones as they rocketed toward the brightly lit tarmac.
"We've got company!" Vance shouted, pointing toward the end of the runway where two black tactical SUVs pulled out from behind a maintenance hangar, their high beams blindingly bright as they turned to intercept the cruiser.
"Keep driving!" Adrian yelled, ducking low as a volley of rubber-coated tactical rounds slammed into the passenger-side window, spider-webbing the glass into a thousand tiny fragments.
Vance swerved violently, clipping the corner of a fuel storage tank before straightening out and heading directly toward the idling Gulfstream jet parked two hundred yards away. On the tarmac, the boarding stairs were being retracted into the belly of the aircraft, and Clara could be seen pressed against the small round window of the cabin door, screaming silently into the glass.
"They're closing the hatch!" Adrian shouted.
Vance slammed on the brakes, sending the cruiser into a violent 180-degree spin that brought them skidding to a halt right at the base of the jet's boarding ladder. Before the car had even finished rocking, Adrian kicked his door open and hit the tarmac running.
"Miller, wait for backup!" Vance roared, covering him with his service pistol as the tactical SUVs closed in behind them, doors flying open as armed guards spilled out onto the runway.
Adrian ignored the shouts and gunfire echoing behind him. He leaped onto the lower steps of the boarding ladder just as the hydraulic motor began to pull the stairs upward into the fuselage. With a desperate heave, he grabbed the metal handrail and hoisted his muscular frame through the narrowing gap of the cabin door, tumbling hard onto the carpeted floor inside.
He looked up to find himself staring straight down the barrel of a polished black firearm held by a tall, impeccably dressed man with silver hair and cold, calculating eyes.
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"Welcome aboard, Adrian," Marcus Sterling said smoothly, lowering the gun just enough to smile. "I was wondering if you'd make it in time for takeoff."
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