Chapter 56 - The Fracture of Steel
"Come and take him," I said, my voice dead and cold.
Victoria’s lips curled in disgust. "Restrain her. Don't damage the infant's vascular system."
The two orderlies stepped forward, their rubber-soled boots squeaking against the wet asphalt. They moved with the clinical confidence of men who dealt with struggling animals every day.
They did not expect the iron pipe.
As I had backed against the brownstone wall, my heel had caught against a length of rusted iron scaffolding left behind by masonry workers. As the first orderly lunged forward, reaching for Leo’s blanket, I dropped low, swung the two-foot iron bar with both hands, and shattered his kneecap.
The man collapsed with a wet crunch and a guttural howl.
The second orderly hesitated for a fraction of a second—just long enough for a thunderous roar to shatter the night air.
A bullet ripped through the second orderly’s shoulder, spinning him violently onto the pavement.
Victoria gasped, staggering backward against the ambulance.
Emerging from the open manhole in the middle of the street, covered in black mud and motor grease, was Detective Miller. His face was a mask of crimson cuts, his jacket torn to shreds, his service weapon smoking in his shaking right hand.
"Step away from the mother," Miller rasped, dragging himself out of the hole, his boots hitting the street with a heavy, unstable thud. "You’re under arrest, Mrs. Vance. For kidnapping, human trafficking, and attempted capital murder."
Victoria stared at him in disbelief, her poise shattering into raw, aristocratic fury. "You pathetic municipal dog! You think a badge protects you from the people who own the governor, the judges, and the ground you stand on?"
"No," Miller said, taking another ragged step forward, raising his weapon level with Victoria’s forehead. "My badge doesn't mean a damn thing down here. But this nine-millimeter does."
Suddenly, the driver’s side door of the black ambulance slammed open. A sniper from the front seat raised an assault rifle through the side mirror frame, aiming directly at Miller’s chest.
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"Miller, watch out!" I screamed.
Before the sniper could pull the trigger, the low, guttural growl of a heavy diesel engine thundered down Charles Street. A battered pickup truck, its headlights completely blacked out, slammed into the side of the unmarked ambulance with the force of a freight train.
