Chapter 7 - The Final Stand in the ArchivesVance didn't hesitate. With a feral snarl, he whipped the heavy wrench from his belt and lunged forward, swinging wildly toward Miller’s head.
Miller ducked instinctively, but before Vance could follow up with a second strike, a blur of golden-brown fur launched through the air like a guided missile.
Ranger slammed directly into Vance's chest with bone-crushing force. The grown man staggered backward, losing his balance and crashing hard onto the rows of steel storage racks, sending metal file boxes cascading down like an avalanche.
Vance cursed loudly, thrashing violently as he tried to throw the massive Malinois off his torso. Despite his age, Ranger’s jaws clamped down firmly around Vance’s padded tactical glove, his muscular shoulders pinning the fugitive to the floor.
"Get this damn beast off me!" Vance screamed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a heavy hunting knife with a flick of his wrist.
The blade glinted under the fluorescent emergency lights.
"Drop the knife, Vance! Police!"
At the end of the archive aisle, the heavy oak doors burst wide open. The lead detective, followed by three heavily armed tactical officers with drawn sidearms, flooded into the room. Red and blue emergency lights flashed wildly through the tall windows from the squad cars parked outside on the street.
Vance froze, the knife hovering inches from Ranger’s thick fur. He looked from the barrels of the police firearms pointing directly at his face down to the relentless, unblinking glare of the aging K-9 staring back into his eyes.
Slowly, deliberately, Vance’s fingers loosened. The knife clattered loudly against the concrete floor.
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"It's over, Marcus," Miller said, his voice steady as he pulled the struggling fugitive up by his arms and forced him face-down against the floor, snapping heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
As officers hauled Vance away in a tight security cordon, Ranger stood panting softly, shaking his thick coat out. Miller knelt down, burying his face in the dog's neck. "Good boy," he whispered proudly. "You saved us all."
