Chapter 11 - The Matriarch's Escape
The storm followed them down the mountain as Gabriel’s convoy sped toward the city’s international airport. The rain was torrential, washing away the blood of the mountain battle, but the urgency inside Gabriel’s vehicle was at fever pitch.
In the back seat of Marcus's armored SUV, Elena cradled Arthur, feeding him warm milk provided by Marcus’s medical aide. The bruises on her face were still raw, but the haunting, broken despair that had filled her eyes at Vance Manor was gone. In its place was a mother’s iron resolve.
"Victoria has always kept an emergency escape protocol," Marcus explained from the front passenger seat, his laptop glowing with live satellite telemetry. "Twenty years ago, when your grandfather attempted to write her out of the trust, she established a shell corporation in the Cayman Islands called 'Aegis Maritime.' Over the years, she siphoned dividends into offshore vaults. The moment Ricardo called her to say Saint Michael’s was compromised, she triggered the asset liquidation."
"How much time do we have?" Gabriel asked, checking his tactical watch.
"Her private Gulfstream is currently taxiing on Runway 4 at the private executive terminal," Marcus replied. "She paid off the air traffic control supervisor to give her immediate clearance without filing a standard flight manifest. Once she enters international airspace over the Atlantic, diplomatic extradition will take years."
"She won't make it to the runway," Gabriel said coldly. He turned to Leo, who was piloting the pursuit vehicle behind them. "Bear, what’s your position?"
"We just bypassed the terminal security gates, boss," Leo’s voice came over the encrypted line. "We took out the perimeter sensors. Runway 4 is wide open, but the bird’s engines are already spooling up. We have about three minutes before wheels-up."
Gabriel floored the accelerator, the supercharged engine of the armored SUV roaring as it smashed through the wooden security barriers of the private hangar district. Rain spray erupted twenty feet into the air as the heavy vehicle slid onto the slick tarmac.
Half a mile down the illuminated strip, a sleek white private jet was beginning its takeoff roll. The twin turbines screamed against the howling wind, burning kerosene as it accelerated toward the cloud base.
"Hang on!" Gabriel shouted to Elena.
He cut the wheel hard, taking a diagonal intercept trajectory across the intersecting runway. The tires shrieked for traction against the waterlogged concrete. Gabriel wasn't trying to follow the jet; he was driving straight into its takeoff path.
Inside the cabin of the Gulfstream, Victoria Vance sat sipping champagne, her diamond-encrusted hands resting on a leather briefcase containing the master encryption keys to the offshore accounts. Through the oval window, she suddenly saw headlights speeding directly toward the nose gear.
"What is that idiot doing?!" Victoria screamed at the cockpit door. "Pull up! Take off now!"
"We can't, ma'am!" the pilot yelled back in panic. "There’s an armored truck blocking the rotation point! If we lift now, the fuselage will shear off!"
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The pilot slammed on the emergency reverse thrusters. The Gulfstream’s tires locked up, screeching across the runway in a cloud of burnt rubber and water vapor, skidding sideways before coming to a violent halt less than fifty yards from Gabriel’s stationary bumper.
Gabriel stepped out into the rain, unholstering his weapon, his cold silhouette backlit by the high beams of three approaching federal pursuit vehicles.
