The two CIA agents following Cooper were even more adrenaline-fueled. The one holding Cassel instinctively pulled the writer toward the inner corridor for cover. The other glanced back at him with a hint of resentment before finally resigning himself to his fate and yanking open the door.
The deafening roar of gunfire instantly jarred Cooper's ears. Puzzled, he peered over, momentarily hesitant.
Having come from the other side of the hotel, their chosen exit was perfectly situated. They were only a dozen meters from the Lao Gan Ma machine gun, which was still firing steadily at a rate of around 200 rounds per minute. Their view was obscured by a row of cars parked in the parking spaces ahead.
The flickering machine gun fire was a formidable sight, but it was clear the firing position was facing away from them, making this the perfect time for an outflanking maneuver.
After a moment of hesitation, Cooper, feeling conflicted, finally gritted his teeth, tossed his head to signal the teammate who had opened the door for him to follow, and he led the charge.
It wasn't that he didn't want to let up, but he was accompanied by two teammates. If he acted too deliberately, it would easily arouse Cynthia's suspicion later.
With both hands in hand, Cooper quickly moved behind an SUV. He could only hear the heavy machine gun roaring incessantly. He raised his gun and peeked out, about to shout a warning when he was startled by the scene before him.
The Browning M2HB heavy machine gun, anchored to the concrete floor by a tripod more than a meter tall and fixed with expansion screws, was still firing, its heavy barrel even tinging slightly red. But aside from a pile of brass shell casings, there was no one in sight.
The trigger and swivel mechanism of the heavy machine gun were jammed, leaving it on automatic fire. As Cooper peered out, the ammunition belt in the magazine emptied, and the world finally fell silent.
The sirens were clearly audible in the distance. Perhaps because the safety of so many local celebrities and wealthy individuals was at stake, the CPD (Chicago Police Department) responded with remarkable swiftness.
In fact, less than ten minutes had passed since the incident, and only three minutes had passed since the gunshots were heard in the parking lot.
Bracken's security team's professionalism was commendable. Although forced to retreat to the hotel, they quickly planned a new escape route.
The security chief and four remaining bodyguards escorted Bracken into the hotel's kitchen area, causing a flurry of activity. The chefs and housekeepers fled in panic to avoid the armed intruders.
Unfortunately, their path wasn't the one the veteran agents had hoped for. Just as they were about to leave the kitchen, a barrage of MP5 submachine gun bullets rained down on the nearest passageway.
Victoria and Anna, each armed with a submachine gun, completely sealed off the corridor. The bodyguards' small pistols were useless against the intense fire in such a narrow space. They barely managed to return a few rounds before retreating to the inner room.
9mm rounds ricocheted dangerously off the tiled kitchen walls, sending sparks flying off the metal utensils and forcing the group to retreat in a panic.
"Cover! Cover! We need to continue!"
the dedicated security chief shouted as he escorted Bracken toward the other side of the kitchen, where the food was being transported to the freight elevator. Only one bodyguard remained, along with them.
The gunfire in the kitchen died down. Marvin, busily pulling magazines from his travel bag and handing them to the two women, listened intently, a smile crossing his old face. "It seems to be going better than we expected."
Victoria checked the time and handed the empty MP5 back to him. "Now it's your job."
She pulled Anna along and began to leave. Just as they were about to enter the other hallway, gunfire rang out. A team of heavily armed SWAT officers had suddenly blocked the exit.
Anna reacted quickly, pulling back the elderly woman, whose body was much smaller than hers.
Marvin, who had just loaded the magazine into the empty gun, didn't even look at it. He took a step forward and raised his hand to emptied the 30-round magazine into the corridor.
"Fuck!" A curse with the unique accent of an old Londoner burst out of Victoria's mouth, and a dazzling bright red slowly spread from the waist of her white dress.
Anna reached into the travel bag carried by Marvin and took out two smoke bombs and threw them one after another, then carried Victoria and left.
Marvin, who stayed behind, changed the magazine and fired another round before catching up. As a result, the three of them ran into Jack who hurried over as soon as they entered the storage area behind the kitchen.
"What happened?" Jack, who changed into a suit and put on a bulletproof vest with the FBI logo on it, hurried over.
"Victoria is injured, why are you here?" Anna asked. This was inconsistent with the previously agreed plan.
"Come here to prevent any accidents," Jack couldn't say. He took the now-unsteady old woman from Anna's arms and explained, "The CPD SWAT team arrived earlier than we expected. I was worried something might be wrong, so I came to check."
He then pulled a pack of first aid bandages from the tactical pocket of his bulletproof vest. After a quick inspection, he confirmed it was a penetrating wound. He bit open the bandage, rolled one strip into the thickness of a thumb, and roughly inserted it into the wound.
Victoria's face paled instantly, but she endured the pain and grabbed Marvin's arm. "Hurry up, we're running out of time."
"But you..." Marvin looked at her worriedly.
"You too, leave this here." Jack nudged Anna with his shoulder.
Without hesitation, the girl stood up and pulled Marvin away with her. Her trust in Jack's abilities was unquestionable. The image of him holding her in the center of the underground auction stage, firing a Heather submachine gun, still occasionally recurred in her dreams.
After staunching Victoria's bleeding, Jack quickly wrapped a bandage around her waist twice to prevent the blood from staining his clothes as he lifted her. It wasn't that he was a germaphobe, but he had a scene waiting for him.
He carried the old woman in a princess-carrying position through the stock area. Behind the iron gate, Ivan was using a switchblade to pry open the lock. Upon seeing Jack, the old man grimaced.
"You ruined my plan to save the damsel in distress."
Jack shook his head speechlessly and handed Victoria to him. He thought to himself that if he weren't worried about Anna getting hurt by the plot's inertia, he wouldn't have bothered to come here to watch the old man and his wife show their affection.
"Oh, come on, Jack saved my life." The old woman hugged the old man's neck and punched him angrily.
"So you don't have anything to say to me?" Ivan raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, I love you." Victoria laughed helplessly.
"Yeah, I knew it."
Jack shuddered subconsciously as he watched the two leave. He took out his cell phone and dialed a number. "Inspector Boyette, it's me, Jack."
(End of this chapter)