Chapter 11 - The Tarmac Crossfire
Julian lunged forward as rounds tore through the wet air, pinging off the metal airstair and cracking against the asphalt. He didn't dive for cover; he bolted straight toward the ramp, adrenaline deadening every instinct of self-preservation. Behind him, Miller advanced with ruthless efficiency, returning fire and dropping a second guard who was trying to flank around the Gulfstream’s wing.
Arthur stumbled backward on the ramp, recovering his footing and screaming curses as he pointed the detonator down at Julian. ""Ungrateful parasite!"" Arthur shrieked, slamming his thumb down onto the switch.
Nothing happened.
A few yards behind Julian, the rear door of the damaged G-Wagon swung open. Elena stood clinging to the frame, a smoking flare gun in her uninjured right hand. She had fired the high-intensity magnesium charge directly into the aircraft’s exposed undercarriage sensor array, frying the local radio receivers and neutralizing the remote receiver before Arthur’s signal could bridge the circuit.
Julian reached the base of the stairs, taking them three at a time. A surviving guard lunged from the cabin door, but Julian ducked beneath a wild swing, driving his shoulder hard into the man’s midsection and driving him over the narrow railing to crash onto the concrete fifteen feet below. Julian reached the top platform, chest heaving, his eyes burning as he locked onto his father.
Arthur drew a compact chrome revolver from his cashmere coat, his face twisted in desperate venom. ""You think you've won? You think you can just take him and walk away? I own the banks! I own the men who will hunt you to the ends of the earth!""
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""You don't own us,"" Julian said, stepping inside the arc of Arthur’s arm just as the hammer clicked back. Julian grabbed his father’s wrist, twisting it inward with the precise, brutal mechanical leverage he had practiced during his mandatory military service years ago. The gun clattered down the metal steps. Julian shoved the old man hard against the fuselage, ripping the zip-ties from Lucas’s wrists with his pocketknife.
""Julian..."" Lucas whispered, his voice trembling, his eyes wide and terrified. ""The drive... it's not data, Julian. It's an override. He’s going to crash the entire global currency exchange at midnight.""
