Chapter 10 - The Chicago Protocol
Z
The blizzard hitting downtown Chicago at 9:00 PM was brutal. Whiteout conditions covered the city streets in six inches of fresh snow, cutting visibility to less than fifty feet and turning the towering skyscrapers into dark, ghostly shadows against the night sky.
A convoy of four heavy black armored SUVs cut through the snow along Dearborn Street, making its way toward the Dirkser Federal Courthouse.
I sat in the back of the lead vehicle, flanked by two heavily armed FBI Special Tactical Response agents. Emily sat across from me, wearing a bulletproof vest under her heavy winter coat, holding a secure encrypted briefcase linked directly to my master key.
“Ten minutes to arrival, Hale,” the lead agent in the passenger seat said, checking his tactical tablet. “The Federal Marshal detail has locked down the entire third floor of the courthouse. The US Attorney is waiting in chambers with the presiding judge.”
“What about the perimeter?” I asked, watching the snow lash against the reinforced ballistic glass window.
“State police have cleared a three-block radius around the building,” the agent replied. “Nobody gets within two hundred yards without clearance.”
Suddenly, the heavy SUV jolted violently as a massive blast echoed down the street.
BOOM!
A blinding orange fireball erupted from a parked utility truck fifty yards ahead, flipping the escort police cruiser leading our convoy into the air. The heavy explosion shattered the streetlights, plunging the intersection into darkness and smoke.
“AMBUSH! AMBUSH!” the driver screamed, slamming on the brakes as our vehicle skidded across the icy asphalt, slamming hard into the concrete curb.
Through the heavy snow, two black unmarked vans slid around the corner, blocking our path. Armed men in white winter camouflage gear jumped out, opening fire with automatic weapons.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Heavy caliber rounds slammed against the armored body of our SUV like hail on a tin roof. The bulletproof glass spider-webbed into a dense matrix of white cracks.
“Stay down!” I shouted, throwing my body over Emily as the FBI agents returned fire through the armored gun ports.
“They knew our transport route!” the lead agent yelled into his radio, blood streaming from a cut on his hairline. “Command, this is Unit One! We are under heavy fire at Dearborn and Adams! We need immediate tactical support!”
Static roared through his earpiece. “Unit One, all frequencies are jammed! Repeat, heavy directional signal jamming across the entire downtown sector!”
They had used Sterling’s high-tier electronic warfare equipment to cut off all communications.
I looked through the cracked rear window. The third SUV in our convoy had been rammed by a snowplow, trapping our rear guard. We were completely isolated in the middle of a blizzard.
“They aren't trying to capture the key anymore,” I realized, grabbing the tactical briefcase from Emily’s lap. “They know Sterling’s transfer to the supermax facility happens at dawn. This is their last chance to destroy the physical evidence.”
“What do we do, Pop?!” Emily gasped, her breath white in the freezing interior of the damaged SUV.
“We don't wait for support,” I said, picking up a tactical smoke grenade from the agent’s gear bag. “The courthouse side entrance is seventy yards down that alley. If we make it to the interior stairwell, their jamming won't stop the internal hardwired alarm system.”
I turned to the lead agent. “Lay down suppressive fire on my mark. Cover the alley entrance.”
The agent nodded grimly, checking his rifle magazine. “Go! On three! One... two... THREE!”
I kicked the damaged passenger door open, throwing the smoke grenade directly into the snow between us and the attackers. White smoke billowed out, blending with the blizzard.
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“RUN, EMILY!” I roared, pulling her out of the vehicle into the freezing tempest.
We lunged into the narrow alleyway, snow crunching beneath our boots as automatic gunfire chewed into the brick walls beside us, showering us with debris and red dust.
