Chapter 8 - The Garage Ambush
I stared at the sixty-two-year-old head housekeeper sitting atop thirty tons of steel, completely speechless.
"Mrs. Whitfield?!" Sebastian gasped, his mouth hanging open. "How did you—"
"I was an engineer in the Royal Navy before I retired to manage your estate, Mr. Vale," Mrs. Whitfield snapped, pulling a massive steel wrench from her overalls. "Now get in the back of the service truck before the rest of Marcus's men recover from the tear gas!"
Behind us, Lenora stumbled out of the access tunnel, her dark jumpsuit covered in dust, her eyes wild with desperate fury. She saw Marcus lying groaning beneath the crushed wreckage of the SUV, saw the briefcase in Sebastian's hand, and realized her entire operation had dissolved into total ruin.
She pulled a compact, pearl-handled Derringer pistol from her boot.
"Sebastian!" she screamed, raising the small two-shot pistol with both hands, her finger tightening on the trigger.
I didn't think. I reacted on pure instinct.
I lunged sideways, slamming my shoulder into Sebastian's torso, knocking us both flat onto the concrete garage floor just as a sharp BANG echoed through the subterranean space.
The small-caliber bullet whizzed inches above my ear, ricocheting off the steel pillar behind us with a high-pitched PING!
Before Lenora could squeeze the trigger a second time, Mrs. Whitfield swung the excavator's massive steel hydraulic bucket sideways.
CLANG!
The edge of the heavy steel scoop struck Lenora's arm, knocking the pearl-handled pistol out of her grip and sending it flying thirty feet across the garage, where it splashed into a drain sumphole.
Lenora collapsed against the concrete wall, clutching her broken wrist, weeping sobbing tears of pure defeated rage.
"Aaliyah... are you alright?" Sebastian asked, his hands on my shoulders as he checked me for injuries, his dark eyes wide with intense concern.
"I'm fine," I panted, sitting up and dusting off my torn apron. "Though I think my maid uniform is officially ruined."
A soft, breathless laugh escaped Sebastian's lips—a sound of sheer, unadulterated relief amidst the chaos of smoke, crushed cars, and ringing alarms. "I'll buy you a thousand new ones. Or better yet... a tailored suit."
Dominic Russo and six uniformed state troopers came sprinting down the concrete ramp moments later, their heavy boots echoing through the garage, weapons drawn.
"FPSD! Nobody move!" the lead trooper shouted.
"They're the suspects," Mrs. Whitfield announced calmly from her excavator cab, pointing her steel wrench down at Marcus Vance and Lenora Price. "And I suggest you call an ambulance for Dr. Reev in the sub-basement server room before he runs out of oxygen."
The troopers moved swiftly, securing Marcus and Lenora with heavy steel handcuffs.
As Lenora was dragged past us, her face bruised and weeping, she stopped, glaring at me with a hatred so deep it could have burned through steel. "Who the hell are you?" she spat. "You were just a housekeeper!"
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I looked her dead in the eye, pulling off the soiled white apron and letting it drop onto the oily floor between us.
"My name is Aaliyah Grant," I said, my voice steady and clear. "I'm the safety coordinator who just audited your criminal career. And you failed compliance."
