Chapter 13 - Grounding the Gulfstream
Rain battered the runway of Teterboro Airport as two black Moretti SUVs slammed through the perimeter security fence, flashing sirens and grinding chain-link under their massive tires.
On the runway, the Gulfstream G650 was already taxiing toward the departure strip, its twin jet turbines whining with a deafening, high-pitched roar.
Sal sat in the lead passenger seat of the first SUV. ""Cut their nose gear, Marcus! Do not let that bird rotate!""
Marcus floored the accelerator. The reinforced steel bumper of the SUV surged forward, crossing the taxiway at seventy miles per hour. With surgical precision, Marcus clipped the right engine cowling of the jet with the armored bull-bar. The impact shuddered through both vehicles, sparking a violent cascade of metal against concrete. The jet swerved hard to the right, tires blowing out with shotgun-like reports, skidding off the tarmac into the soft mud of the runway apron.
The turbines sputtered and died, leaving only the hiss of leaking hydraulic fluid and the rain beating against the wings.
Before the emergency exit doors could deploy, Sal and six of his operators surrounded the aircraft, carbines raised, sealing off every hatch.
Sal walked calmly up the exterior maintenance ladder, his heavy boots clanking against the aluminum rungs. He drew his weapon and racked the slide.
Frank used a hydraulic breach tool on the main cabin door, forcing the pressurized seal to hiss and pop open. The door swung down into boarding stairs.
Sal stepped up into the cabin.
The interior was lavishly appointed in cream leather and mahogany veneer. Two private security guards reached for their holsters, but before their hands cleared leather, Frank and Marcus neutralized them with twin bursts of non-lethal shock rounds, leaving them writhing on the carpeted floor.
Sitting at the far end of the cabin, an untouched flute of champagne in front of her, was Victoria Cole.
She didn't scream. She didn't look afraid. She merely adjusted her diamond cufflinks and sighed, looking out the window at the ruined tarmac.
""Salvatore,"" she said, her voice smooth, dripping with high-society European arrogance. ""You always were a violent brute. You ruined a sixty-million-dollar airframe.""
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Sal walked down the aisle, towering over her table. He tossed Julian's gold signet ring onto the polished mahogany in front of her. It spun twice and clattered against her champagne glass.
""Your errand boy is dead, Victoria,"" Sal said, his voice cold as a tombstone. ""Your father is fish food. And your flight has been canceled.""
