As the three men reached the scene, the last fire truck was pulling away, leaving behind a chaotic mess. Nearby, a police car riddled with bullet holes stood as a stark reminder of the shootout.
Jack walked from the still-smoldering boiler room to the D block and then followed the path along the fence to the yard where the helicopter had landed. He silently estimated the distances in his mind.
The escape plan had been both bold and meticulously executed. The time between the explosion and the helicopter's arrival was just five minutes—perfectly timed with the prison's evacuation procedures.
Even if Jack had designed the plan himself, he couldn't have done much better. The surrounding area lacked high vantage points, making it impossible to position snipers for cover. Taking fire from the guards during the helicopter's departure was an unavoidable risk.
Maldonado had simply been unlucky. When the explosion occurred, a state police patrol car happened to be driving by on the nearby road. Even worse for him, the officers in the car were armed with automatic rifles. Jack suspected that the shot which damaged the helicopter's engine came from one of those state troopers. Although the patrol officers had initially taken cover under Simic's suppressing fire, they eventually found an opportunity to return fire once Simic emptied his magazine and sprinted toward the helicopter.
The patrol car was only about 100 meters from the helicopter at the time. In contrast, the guards in the watchtowers were over 200 meters away. Surveillance footage and audio confirmed it—while the troopers calmly fired short bursts, most of the other guards and Simic were firing recklessly, emptying their magazines with little control.
In other words, without the unexpected presence of that patrol car, Maldonado would likely already be on his way out of the country.
Jack could only hope this unplanned setback was enough to throw off their escape plan entirely.
"Agent, over here," called Captain Roland, the head of the state police tactical unit, waving Jack and Jubal over.
Standing beside him was an older black man wearing a cowboy hat and a silver-star badge on his belt. A group of tough-looking men—some black, some white—stood behind him. They had hardened faces and exuded a military-like demeanor.
As Jack and Jubal approached, Roland seemed hesitant, as if he didn't want to be caught between both sides. But before he could speak, the man in the cowboy hat stepped forward, extending his hand.
"Agent Valentine? I'm Samuel from the U.S. Marshals Service. We'll be taking over from here."
"Taking over what?" Jubal shook his hand and feigned confusion.
"Under federal law, escapees fall under our jurisdiction," Samuel explained. He pulled back his coat to reveal the U.S. Marshals badge on his belt. The badge resembled a miniature black-and-silver shield, much like a smaller version of Captain America's famous shield, minus one circle.
Though Samuel's tone remained polite, the men behind him weren't as courteous. Their body language was confrontational, their eyes filled with disdain as if silently asserting, We're the real authority here. Who the hell do you FBI guys think you are?
"This is also a federal crime," Jubal countered, his tone dripping with faux politeness. "And, might I add, you're a bit late. Agent Tavola here was on vacation in Los Angeles and still arrived an hour before you."
Samuel's smile grew tighter. "I'll give the Department of Justice a call. We'll see what they have to say."
Both the FBI and the U.S. Marshals Service operated under the DOJ, and it was clear Samuel intended to escalate the matter rather than relinquish control. He began to turn away but suddenly froze mid-step. When he turned back, his expression softened considerably.
"Wait... Are you from the New York task force? The one led by Agents Jubal Valentine and Jack Tavola?"
Jubal raised an eyebrow, suspicious of Samuel's sudden warmth. He glanced at Jack, who appeared just as puzzled.
Samuel took a step forward, his face lighting up with excitement. He grasped Jack's hand in a firm shake, enthusiastically pumping it up and down.
"Thank you! Thank you for what you did in Charlotte—especially you, Agent Tavola. You saved Thomas Wicks' life!"
Jubal almost did a double-take at the drastic change in demeanor. Then it hit him: Samuel was referring to an incident in Charlotte where Jack's team had helped a Marshals tactical unit that was ambushed by fugitives.
Jack, caught off guard by the sudden praise, managed an awkward smile. He had nearly forgotten about that incident. They had been in a hurry to catch the serial killer Ronnie and had helped the Marshals as a side task, filing a report afterward and thinking little of it. He hadn't even known the name of the Marshal he'd saved until now.
"We'll be stationed next door if you need anything," Samuel said warmly. "We're here to fully cooperate on this case."
With that, he waved his team along and left, leaving behind a bewildered Captain Roland and a young, nervous black agent.
"Damn fox," Jubal muttered with a chuckle. "Full cooperation, my ass. He just doesn't want to be sidelined and is using cooperation as an excuse to stay involved."
"Better than taking it up the chain," Jack replied with a shrug. "Honestly, if I didn't think the helicopter was grounded nearby, I'd have suggested we let them take over."
Jack wasn't particularly motivated. His strange "System" no longer needed case completions to generate points, and most of the skills he'd upgraded required continued practice to master. The three basic stat panels in his system had all hit 29 points with no option to break through further. He suspected that some sort of event or trigger was needed to advance.
He hoped that trigger wouldn't come in the form of absurd action movie scenarios. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in something like Red 2, where miniature nukes became part of the equation.
"Are you here to take over as well?" Jubal asked, snapping out of his thoughts. His gaze landed on the young black agent standing beside Captain Roland. The agent shifted nervously under his scrutiny.
(End of Chapter)
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