Chapter 6 - The Teterboro Runway
The fog rolling off the Hudson River draped the Teterboro Airport private airstrip in a thick, eerie white blanket. A sleek Gulfstream jet idled on the tarmac, its twin engines whining softly, ready for immediate takeoff.
Arthur Sterling stood near the bottom of the aircraft’s folding stairs, wearing a heavy overcoat, his breath pluming in the freezing night air. He checked his gold watch for the fourth time in two minutes.
“Where is he?” Sterling muttered to a pair of armed private bodyguards standing beside him.
Right on cue, a black sports car screamed through the perimeter gate, tires screeching against the asphalt before sliding to a halt twenty feet from the jet.
Julian flung the car door open, grabbing his leather duffel bag and sprinting toward the stairs like a man pursued by demons.
“Sterling! I’m here! I got the bonds!” Julian panted, his chest heaving as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
Sterling didn't look relieved. He looked murderous. He drew a suppressed pistol from inside his overcoat and leveled it straight at Julian’s chest.
Julian froze, his eyes widening in total disbelief. “Sterling? What are you doing? We’re partners!”
“We were partners, Julian, until your incompetence brought the entire syndicate down,” Sterling said, his voice entirely devoid of remorse. “I can't afford to have loose ends walking around New York with Moretti hunting us.”
Julian dropped to his knees, the duffel bag slipping from his grip. “Please, Arthur! Don't do this! I gave you everything! I gave you Clara! I gave you the research!”
“And now you’re going to give me your life,” Sterling whispered, tightening his finger on the trigger.
Clack.
Before Sterling could fire, a deafening roar drowned out the sound of the jet engines.
Three massive black SUVs smashed through the airport perimeter fence, their high-beam headlights blinding everyone on the tarmac. Doors flew open simultaneously, and a dozen heavily armed men poured out, moving with military precision.
And leading them, walking through the blinding lights like an executioner stepping out of myth, was Luka Moretti.
Sterling spun around, pointing his pistol toward Luka, but before he could squeeze the trigger, a heavy tactical boot kicked the gun out of his hand with bone-crushing force.
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Sterling screamed, clutching his shattered wrist as he dropped to the asphalt.
Julian remained frozen on his knees, trembling uncontrollably as Luka walked past the writhing doctor and stopped directly in front of him.
