Chapter 12 - THE SKYLINE INTERCEPTION
-12
The twin-engine Alighieri corporate helicopter cut through the heavy gray clouds at twelve hundred feet, banking sharply as it approached the private municipal airstrip on the outskirts of the city. Below us, a sleek, white Gulfstream private jet was just beginning to taxi down the active runway, its jet turbines screaming as it prepared for takeoff.
Inside the rattling cabin of the chopper, the noise was deafening. I sat strapped into the jump seat beside Dante, holding little Leo in a specialized tactical baby carrier strapped securely against my chest. The baby was sleeping soundly, completely oblivious to the fact that his mother and grandfather were about to intercept an international fugitive at a hundred miles per hour.
"Pilot!" Dante shouted over the roar of the rotors. "Drop altitude! Cut him off before he reaches the tarmac threshold!"
"Copy that, Boss!" the pilot yelled back, hauling back on the collective control stick.
The helicopter plunged downward in a stomach-churning dive, screaming toward the asphalt runway like a falcon dropping on its prey. The Gulfstream jet loomed larger and larger through the reinforced cockpit glass, its flashing wingtip lights blinking against the overcast sky.
With a bone-jarring thud, our helicopter touched down directly on the active runway, sliding sideways across the rubber-stained asphalt before coming to a dead stop squarely blocking the jet's path.
The Gulfstream's pilot slammed on the brakes, the massive aircraft screeching to a halt just fifty feet from our tail rotor, its engines whining down to an angry idle.
"Stay here," Dante ordered, reaching for his silver Beretta and checking the magazine.
"No," I said, unbuckling my safety harness with my free hand. "I'm coming with you."
Dante looked like he wanted to argue, but one glance at my unyielding expression made him swallow the words. He nodded sharply. "Suit yourself. Let's go welcome Mr. Sterling to the family."
We kicked open the helicopter door and leaped down onto the rain-slicked tarmac. The freezing wind whipped our coats around us as we marched directly toward the nose of the stalled private jet. A dozen Alighieri enforcers, who had arrived via secondary tactical vans simultaneously, swarmed the aircraft, securing the boarding stairs and neutralizing the startled ground crew before they could react.
Dante raised his pistol and fired a single warning shot into the nose-cone of the Gulfstream. Crack!
The jet's forward hatch immediately hissed open, and a terrified face peered out from the doorway.
It was Julian Sterling. His immaculate bespoke suit was rumpled, his hair disheveled, and his face pale with absolute, shivering panic.
"Stop!" Julian screamed, holding his hands up as he stepped out onto the top of the boarding stairs, clutching a heavy aluminum briefcase to his chest. "You can't do this! I'm a respected corporate executive! This is an act of international piracy—"
"Shut your mouth, Julian," I called out, stepping out from behind Dante's broad shoulder so the corporate mastermind could finally see who was holding the cards.
Julian stopped dead in his tracks. Color drained entirely from his face, leaving him looking like a corpse. "Mara? No... no, that's impossible. The Vanguard team confirmed the third-floor sweep—"
"The Vanguard team failed," Dante said coldly, stepping up the stairs and grabbing Julian by the silk lapels of his suit jacket. With one effortless heave, Dante dragged the corporate CEO down the metal stairs, sending him sprawling hard onto the wet tarmac at my feet.
Julian scrambled backward, clutching his aluminum briefcase like a shield. "Please! Don't kill me! I have all the financial data right here! Billions of dollars in offshore accounts! It can all be yours!"
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I walked slowly toward him, looking down at the man who had tried to rewrite my life, steal my child, and destroy my family. I knelt down beside him, ignoring the cold rain beginning to fall around us, and gently rested my hand on the handle of his briefcase.
"I don't want your money, Julian," I whispered, my voice dripping with cold, absolute power. "I want your confession."
