flash

Chapter 6 - THE FINAL DESPERATE GAMBITJust as the agents were hauling the Holloway family toward the private executive elevators, the building’s emergency alarms began to blare loudly.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

"WARNING: STRUCTURAL HAZARD DETECTED IN LOWER BASEMENT. ELEVATORS LOCKING DOWN."

The high-speed glass elevators suddenly ground to a halt, trapping three agents and Richard Holloway inside.

"What's happening?" Agent Vance yelled into his radio. "Dispatch, why are the emergency systems triggered?"

Through the radio, static crackled violently. "Agent Vance! We have a breach in the main garage! A second team of armed men just rammed the security gate! They’re cutting the power grid!"

Before anyone could react, the heavy lights in the boardroom flickered and died. Emergency red lights kicked on, casting sinister shadows across the walls.

Suddenly, Brandon lunged.

In the confusion of the blackout, he grabbed a heavy crystal decanter from the side table and smashed it across the back of the agent holding him. The agent collapsed, and Brandon scrambled for the fallen service weapon.

"Brandon, don't!" I screamed.

RAT-TAT-TAT!

Brandon fired wildly into the dark hallway, hitting the door control box. The heavy steel blast doors of the executive suite slammed shut, locking Agent Vance and the federal officers outside, while isolating me, Brandon, and a bleeding Victoria inside the darkened room.

"Nobody leaves!" Brandon shrieked, his eyes wild with unhinged insanity. He pointed the gun directly at my chest, his hand trembling uncontrollably. "You ruined everything, Helen! You destroyed my family! You destroyed my life!"

Victoria, slumped against the wall with blood running down her manicured hand, screamed at her son. "Shoot her, Brandon! Shoot her and get us out of here!"

I stepped back slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on the barrel of the gun.

"You can shoot me, Brandon," I said softly, my voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring in my ears. "But look out that window."

Brandon blinked, his eyes darting toward the floor-to-ceiling glass panel behind me.

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Swirling in the morning sky outside were four black FBI assault helicopters, their spotlights pinning Brandon in a blinding white glare.

"It's over, Brandon," I said. "You're out of moves."

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