Chapter 6 - Descent into the Sub-Basement
The heavy steel doors of the freight elevator closed with a dull thud, sealing us off from the chaos of the upper floors as the car descended smoothly into the subterranean depths of the hospital.
The digital floor indicator ticked downward: $P2$, $P3$, $SUB-1$, $SUB-3$.
Inside the confined space, the air smelled of ozone, motor oil, and the copper tang of Alessandro’s fresh blood. He kept his hand pressed tightly against his side, his breath coming in shallow, controlled rhythms.
“Viktor,” Alessandro murmured without turning around, keeping his eyes fixed on the mirrored wall of the elevator. “Status report on the perimeter.”
Viktor pulled a tactical radio from his vest, holding it close to his ear. The device hissed with bursts of static before a gruff voice broke through.
“Boss, the north exit is compromised. Federal marshals—or men posing as them—have blockaded the ramp with two black SUVs. We can’t take the standard route out.”
“Then we take the old drainage tunnel,” Alessandro replied instantly, his tone flat and unyielding. “The one leading toward the harbor district.”
“That route hasn’t been cleared in a decade, Boss. The water levels—”
“I didn’t ask for an engineering report, Viktor. I asked for a path.”
“Understood. Van is idling at Sector C-4. We’re moving.”
The elevator came to a sudden, jarring halt. The doors slid open with a sharp ring, revealing the cavernous expanse of the hospital’s sub-basement parking garage. Row upon row of concrete pillars stretched into the dim yellow glow of flickering fluorescent bulbs.
Waiting fifty yards away by a heavy, matte-black Mercedes Sprinter van were four armed men in tactical gear, scanning the shadows with assault rifles raised.
“Move, move, move!” Viktor barked, stepping out first and sweeping his weapon in a wide arc across the parking deck.
I clutched Logan tight against my chest, jogging behind Alessandro. Despite his severe injuries, the mafia boss moved with a predatory grace, his long coat billowing behind him like the wings of a dark bird.
As we reached the van, the screech of tires echoed from the main entrance ramp behind us. Two unmarked black SUVs tore around the concrete bend, their high-beam headlights blinding us in a fierce, white glare.
“Ambush!” one of Viktor’s guards shouted, diving behind a concrete pillar as automatic gunfire erupted from the SUVs.
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Bullets chewed into the concrete and sparked off the side panels of the van, sending showers of sharp metal fragments flying through the air.
“Get in! Now!” Alessandro shoved me and Logan through the side door of the van, slamming it shut behind us with a resounding crash before drawing his Sig Sauer and returning fire through the armored window.
