and firing down on her. They managed to hit her a few times, but each round pinged off her armour and helmet. She realised they were aiming for her legs. The North Hollywood duo had screwed up by not protecting their ankles and feet. Farrell’s team had learnt from that and the three of them were covered in Aramid and plating all the way down to their boots.
Regan was shooting at the other cars, whilst Farrell was pinning down the ESU team. He emptied his mag, then fired three grenades one-by-one, firing and reloading. The task force were forced to huddle behind the truck, taking cover, as the grenades exploded against the front of the truck. The ferocity of the assault had taken them all by surprise. As Ortiz took over and fired down on all of them, Farrell rushed back to the car and climbed in.
‘Let’s go!’ he shouted to Ortiz and Regan, who were still firing down at the ESU truck.
Ortiz gave them another grenade and moved back as she fired, then ducked into the car, pulling her door shut as Farrell sped to the left around the cop car and the two dead officers blocking their way. As Ortiz reloaded, Regan took over, keeping up continuous fire. The five vehicles had been shredded, most of the cops behind them injured, but Ortiz suddenly pulled three grenades tucked into the doorframe beside her, passing one to Regan whilst holding the other two herself. They were flash-bangs, not explosives, designed to stun and incapacitate.
Farrell saw what she was planning and slowed. She pulled the pins on both, the same time as Regan did on his. She passed them to Farrell, who threw the grenades rapidly out of the window towards the cop cars, one after the other, as Regan did the same. The three of them leant to the side, covering their ears and shutting their eyes as bullets pinged off the car.
The three bangs was muffled, considering they had covered up, and after three seconds, the three of them were back in action. Farrell pushed his foot down and the car sped off. As they drove away, Ortiz saw cops and members of the ESU team in black gear either grounded, writhing on the floor, or staggering, blinded and stunned. She had reloaded her M16 and fired as they sped forward, killing three of them as they stumbled around, trying to recover their senses.
Farrell roared through the gate and out onto the Van Wyck expressway, the I-678.
‘C’mon!’ he shouted, ecstatic. ‘Everyone OK?’
Beside and behind him, Ortiz and Regan nodded, reloading their weapons. Their car was riddled with bullet holes, the windshields smashed, but the highway was pretty quiet as they sped up the expressway. The turn off to Flushing Airport was just a couple of miles away. Farrell pushed his foot down as hard as he could, and glanced at a watch on his wrist.
7:23 pm.
In seven minutes, they were out of here.
Archer was in a car too, burning his way down the Grand Central Parkway, headed towards the airport. He had unloaded all the cash from the cop car then locked up and headed back to the Marriott Hotel after making a quick stop at a store on the way. He had gone up to the hotel room, pulling his Sig and dumping the bags in the corridor and eased the key into the lock. He burst inside, his pistol aimed, but no one was inside. They were all gone. He grabbed Katic’s car keys from the side, then left immediately with the bags and headed to the basement and the car park.
Traffic had been typically unpredictable and bad, and he’d been held up, delayed on his way to the airport. He checked the time and swore. 7:24 pm. He needed to be there in six minutes or the three hostages would die.
Suddenly, he heard a wailing siren from behind, and an ambulance appeared in his rear-view mirror. He waited for it to pass, then immediately pulled in behind and followed it down the highway, moving fast.
7:24 pm.
Six minutes to go.
Farrell didn’t slow as he turned off the highway and sped on towards the deserted Flushing Airport. The place was empty, having been shut for almost thirty years, and the car hit the chain-link fence, breaking the lock and smashing it open, the vehicle speeding on into the abandoned airport.
The entire airfield was made up of old tarmac, empty hangars and overgrown concrete lined with weeds, but