Chapter 98 - Siege at Terminal 4
Terminal 4 was a labyrinth of corrugated steel containers stacked four high under the yellow glare of sodium-vapor halogen lamps. Rain pounded down on the hollow metal boxes like a thousand drumbeats.
The SUV smashed through the perimeter gate, tires screeching on the wet asphalt.
Before the vehicle had fully stopped, heavy-caliber machine-gun fire erupted from the catwalks of a massive freighter docked at Berth 12. The windshield of the secondary contractor vehicle shattered, sending it veering into a stack of shipping crates with an explosive crash.
"Sniper towers at the crane gantry!" Reynolds yelled, drawing his weapon.
"Stay in the car, Vanessa," Naomi commanded, her voice calm and authoritative.
She kicked open the SUV door and rolled out onto the asphalt just as a burst of tracer rounds stitched across the hood. Using the container maze as cover, Naomi moved like a ghost through the shadows. She didn't move like a soldier; she moved like an assassin trained to blend into domestic spaces, utilizing blind spots with terrifying intuition.
She scaled an access ladder on the side of a red freight container in three silent bounds. At the top, an Apex sentry dressed in gray tactical gear was scanning the yard with night-vision goggles.
Naomi dropped behind him, her arm wrapping around his neck before he could turn. With a swift, muffled twist, she neutralized him and took his silenced submachine gun and tactical earpiece.
She slipped the headset on. The frequency was buzzing with a singular, synchronized chant:
*“Protocol Nine confirmed. All domestic units standing by for final transmission. Awaiting Unit Bravo's master release.”*
Naomi looked down at the freighter's deck. In the center of the open cargo hold, illuminated by floodlights, was a portable military satellite uplink.
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Standing before the console was Nine-Bravo, soaking wet, her dislocated wrist strapped with field gauze, her right hand typing commands into the glowing interface with mechanical speed.
***
