Chapter 18 - The Ambush on the Tarmac
Forty-eight hours later, our private charter prepared for departure at a quiet regional airfield forty miles outside the city. Arthur Vance had coordinated the flight path, securing diplomatic clearance through his Swiss legal connections. Lily wore her red winter coat again, clutching the floral handbag tightly over her shoulder. She remained quiet, sensing the tension radiating from the men surrounding her.
"Daddy, are we going to see Mommy's garden?" she asked as we walked across the tarmac toward the sleek Gulfstream jet.
"We're going to finish a journey Mommy started, sweetheart," I replied, kneeling down to zip her jacket up against the bitter mountain wind. "And after this, nobody will ever chase us again."
Suddenly, the blinding flash of high-powered spotlights washed over the tarmac from the perimeter hangar. Two black SUVs tore through the chain-link gates, their sirens silent but their intent lethal. Before our private security team could react, a deafening shot echoed across the concrete, piercing the rear tire of the jet.
"Ambush! Take cover!" Vance shouted, dragging Lily behind an aluminum fuel truck as my guards drew their sidearms and returned fire.
Bullets ricocheted off the fuselage with ear-splitting cracks. I pulled Lily behind my body, drawing my weapon and firing three controlled rounds at the advancing SUV’s engine block. Steam hissed violently from its radiator, forcing the vehicle to swerve wildly into a luggage cart.
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"Julian! The gate!" David yelled from behind the boarding stairs.
A third vehicle had entered from the runway’s eastern taxiway, cutting off our retreat toward the airfield terminal. From the passenger side emerged a man dressed in a bespoke suit, flanked by two men carrying heavy submachine guns. Through the haze of gunsmoke and driving rain, I recognized him from the business journals Sarah used to read: Gerard Fontaine, the managing director of Saint-Cloud’s executive board.
