Chapter 9 - Showdown at the Diner
The three men approached our booth without a sound. The leader, a scarred man with cold, piercing eyes, stopped right beside the table and slammed a gloved hand down onto the Formica surface.
"You're hard to keep track of, Mr. Miller," the leader muttered, his voice like grinding stones. "And it looks like you brought an audience."
Andrew didn't flinch. He leaned back against the vinyl bench, his expression completely unreadable. "If you're looking for the ledger, it's right here."
Andrew pushed the flash drive forward across the table.
The scarred leader stared at the small piece of plastic, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. He reached out to grab it—
"Federal agents! Nobody move!"
The front doors of the diner burst open as half a dozen tactical officers rushed inside, their automatic weapons raised and laser sights painting a grid of red dots across the room.
"Drop your weapons! Do it now!" a voice roared from the center of the squad.
In a fraction of a second, chaos erupted. The scarred leader lunged for the flash drive, but Andrew intercepted him, tackling him hard across the diner table in a shower of shattering ceramic mugs and flying silverware. The two remaining operatives drew their weapons, but before they could squeeze a trigger, tactical flashbangs detonated near the entrance, flooding the room with blinding white light and a deafening roar.
I ducked beneath the booth, covering my head as rounds punched through the diner windows and shards of glass rained down like hail.
Shouts, heavy thuds, and the unmistakable sound of zip-ties snapping tight echoed through the smoke-filled room.
Then, silence returned.
Slowly, I raised my head from beneath the table. The air was thick with sulfur and dust. Across the room, the three operatives were pinned facedown on the floor by federal agents, secured and subdued.
May you like
Andrew stood up, brushing broken glass off his charcoal suit, a small cut bleeding above his left eyebrow. He looked down at me, offering a steady hand to pull me up from the floor.
"It's over, James," Andrew said quietly. "The syndicate is finished."
