Chapter 5 - The Ambush at 31st Street
The convoy moved south down Michigan Avenue, the rain blindingly thick against the armored glass.
Inside the middle SUV, the air was heavy and quiet. The only sound was the deep, rhythmic hum of the high-horsepower engine and the quiet click of the heart rate monitor Lena had attached to Isabella’s wrist.
Isabella sat with her eyes closed, her hand tightly gripping Lena’s.
"HR is 88," Lena murmured softly, checking her watch under her sleeve. "Breathe slowly, Mrs. DeLuca. In through the nose, out through the mouth."
"I am breathing, child," Isabella rasped, though her knuckles were white against Lena’s skin.
In the front seat, Marco sat motionless, his eyes glued to the side mirror. His satellite phone was pressed to his ear.
"Scout one," Marco said into the phone. "Report."
Static crackled over the line. "Scout one clear. Approaching the 31st Street overpass. Traffic is light. No suspicious activity."
"Keep moving," Marco ordered.
He lowered the phone. Something in his demeanor—a sudden, subtle tightening of his shoulder muscles—told Lena he didn't like the silence.
The convoy turned off the main avenue, entering the narrow, concrete-walled access corridor beneath the 31st Street industrial overpass. High concrete retaining walls rose on either side, slick with black water and shadow.
Suddenly, the lead SUV’s brake lights flashed blindingly red.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the narrow corridor. A massive yellow fireball erupted forty feet ahead, lifting the front SUV off its tires and slamming it sideways against the concrete retaining wall.
"AMBUSH!" the driver screamed, slamming his foot on the brakes.
The middle SUV skidded violently across the rain-slicked asphalt, its heavy tires grinding as the anti-lock brakes fought for traction.
Before the vehicle could come to a complete halt, a heavy commercial dump truck plunged out of an alleyway behind them, crashing directly into the rear guard vehicle, crushing its engine block in a shower of sparks and twisted metal.
The convoy was trapped. Boxed in between a burning wreck in front and a ten-ton steel wall behind, inside a concrete trench with no exit.
"Stay down!" Marco roared, pulling a high-caliber automatic pistol from his shoulder holster with fluid, lethal speed.
From the high concrete walls above the overpass, dark figures emerged. Automatic gunfire erupted in a terrifying, continuous roar.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Heavy armor-piercing rounds slammed into the roof and sides of the SUV. The bulletproof glass spider-webbed into thousands of opaque white cracks, holding, but groaning under the immense kinetic impact.
Isabella screamed, covering her ears.
"Get under the seat!" Lena shouted, throwing her body over Isabella’s frail frame, shielding the old woman’s head with her arms and the thick medical bag.
Up front, Marco was already barking commands into his radio. "Caruso! Flank team left! Take the high ground! Drive them off the ledge!"
The driver opened his door to return fire, but a barrage of lead struck his chest, sending him falling backward onto the asphalt, blood spraying across the steering wheel.
"Driver down!" Marco yelled.
He reached over the console, grabbed the steering wheel, and slammed the SUV into reverse, smashing the rear bumper into the dump truck to clear two feet of space.
Then, the side door was hit.
A heavy magnetic breach charge was slapped against the rear passenger door handle from the outside.
A sharp, high-pitched BEEP-BEEP-BEEP cut through the roar of gunfire.
Marco’s eyes widened in horror as he looked back through the interior mirror.
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"THE DOOR!" Marco screamed. "LEO! GET THEM OUT!"
The charge blew.
