Chapter 6 - THE SIEGE ON THE HOSPITAL
The third-floor pediatric wing of Vanderbilt Medical Center was quiet. Most of the young patients were asleep, and the night shift nurses were completing their morning rounds at the central station.
I walked down the hallway dressed in dark scrubs, a medical mask covering the lower half of my face, and a concealed earpiece linked directly to Vance’s surveillance feed.
"They're inside the building," Vance’s voice crackled through the earpiece. "Four operators. Disguised as paramedic transport staff. They have fake transfer papers signed by a compromised state judge."
"Copy," I whispered. "Where are the FBI units?"
"Five minutes out. Traffic on Interstate 40 is backed up."
Five minutes was an eternity. In five minutes, four trained mercenaries could secure a child, clear the stairwell, and disappear into a waiting van.
I walked into Jake’s room. My boy was awake, sitting up in bed, watching a quiet cartoon on the overhead television.
"Dad!" he smiled, his eyes lighting up despite the heavy purple bruises on his cheek. "You came back!"
"I promised you I would, buddy," I said softly, walking over to his bed. I kissed his forehead gently. "Listen to me, Jake. We're going to play a game. Remember the hide-and-seek game we played at the cabin last summer?"
Jake nodded, his small face growing serious. "The quiet game?"
"Exactly," I said, opening the door to the small private bathroom inside his room. "I want you to go inside here, lock the door, and sit in the bathtub. No matter what sounds you hear outside, you don't open this door until you hear my voice saying 'pancake Sunday.' Do you understand?"
Jake looked at me, trusting me completely. "Pancake Sunday. Got it, Dad."
He walked inside the bathroom, closed the door, and I heard the lock click into place.
I turned back to the main hospital room. I grabbed two heavy IV stands, positioned them behind the door, pulled the curtains closed around the bed to make it look like someone was sleeping inside, and turned off the overhead lights.
Ten seconds later, the heavy outer door of the room swung open.
Four men in navy-blue paramedic uniforms stepped into the room. They moved with trained tactical precision—weapons concealed under their jackets, night-vision goggles resting on their tactical vests.
"Target is in the bed," the team leader whispered, drawing a suppressed 9mm pistol. "Move fast. Secure the boy and get to the service elevator."
They approached the bed, raising their weapons.
The moment the lead operator pulled back the curtain, he found an empty bed stacked with folded pillows.
"It's a trap—!"
Before he could finish the sentence, I stepped out from behind the heavy door, driving a heavy metal IV stand directly into his throat. He gagged, dropping his weapon as he collapsed to the floor.
The second operator swung his suppressed rifle toward me, but I grabbed the barrel, twisted it upward, and slammed my elbow into his nose. Blood spattered across the floor. I grabbed his neck, spun him around, and used his body as a human shield as the third operator fired two suppressed shots.
THUD! THUD!
The bullets slammed into the second operator's body armor. I pushed his limp body forward into the third attacker, knocking them both onto the floor.
The fourth operator—the largest of the group—drew a combat knife and lunged at my chest.
I stepped inside his attack arc, grabbed his wrist, and executed a joint lock that shattered his elbow with a sickening CRACK. He screamed, but I swept his legs out, slamming his head onto the hard floor, knocking him instantly unconscious.
The room went dead silent again.
Four elite Vanguard Apex mercenaries lay neutralized on the floor in less than forty-five seconds. No gunshots had alerted the hospital staff outside.
I wiped a drop of sweat from my forehead, walked over to the bathroom door, and knocked three times.
"Pancake Sunday, buddy," I called out softly.
May you like
The lock clicked. The door opened, and Jake looked out, his wide eyes looking at me. I stepped in front of the fallen men so he couldn't see them, scooped him up in my arms, and wrapped a warm blanket around his shoulders.
"Time to go home, son," I whispered.
