**
CHAPTER 4: THE BREACH AT WORTH STREET
The silence in the trauma bay collapsed into a sharp, static hiss.
I stood up.
My six-foot-two frame seemed to cast an immoveable, terrifying shadow across the sterile room. The mafia boss who had ruled the Manhattan underworld was gone.
In his place stood the Master Sovereign Fiduciary of the United States Board of Maritime Surveyors.
“Admiral,” I whispered.
My voice had zero volume, yet it filled that twenty-foot room with fifty decibels of pure, unyielding polar diamond:
“Where is the strike team that chased Claire into that alley?”
Admiral Mercer touched his radio earpiece:
“Tactical Command. This is Archangel-One. Report status of Sector Four.”
A tinny, mechanical voice responded through the speaker:
`”Archangel-One, this is Strike Team Alpha.”`
`”We have intercepted the target vehicle—a black commercial armored transport registered to Sterling Logistics.”`
`”The vehicle is currently trapped in the alley off Worth Street between two of our tactical BearCats.”`
`”Six operators inside. Level Four body armor. Suppressed weapons.”`
`”They have refused orders to surrender. They are attempting to deploy incendiary charges to destroy their communications equipment.”`
“Tell them to hold the perimeter,” Ethan Vance said softly into the radio:
“I’m going down there myself.”
