Page 74 of Close Protection

Her body cataloged her injuries with clinical detachment: bruised ribs protesting each breath, taser burns still tingling beneath her skin, the persistent throb at her temple where Knox's enforcer had struckher. She acknowledged the data, then filed it away. Pain was information, nothing more.

Only one piece of information mattered now: Ivy was here.

Julia studied the shipyard layout through her tactical monocular, mentally overlaying the satellite imagery Morgan had pulled before communications went dark. The sprawling industrial graveyard spread before her—skeletal cranes rising against the afternoon sky, abandoned warehouses with broken windows like blinded eyes, and at its center, the Seraphim terminal building where Knox had established his operation.

She'd confirmed two guards at the perimeter—ex-military based on positioning and patrol patterns. Standard tactical protocol would require identifying all security positions before engagement, but time was her enemy now. Each minute Ivy remained in Knox's hands decreased her chances of survival.

The message Ivy had scratched beneath Julia's bed replayed in her mind: a crude ship's anchor with the number 7. A fierce surge of something beyond professional admiration bloomed through Julia's chest—pride, protectiveness, and something deeper she couldn't afford to name. Not yet.

She tapped the satellite phone once, confirming Morgan's position without breaking radio silence. A single vibration returned: all clear at the perimeter. No additional syndicate assets had been detected approaching the location.

Julia extracted the specialized equipment Lieutenant Vasquez had provided without questions. The thermal imaging scanner showed four heat signatures inside the main terminal building: one stationary in what appeared to be a central office, two moving in regular patrol patterns, and a fourth remaining in a fixed position nearby. Ivy and three guards, most likely.

Protocol demanded waiting for backup. The Phoenix Ridge Police Department manual explicitly prohibited solo engagement against multiple armed suspects.

Julia checked her weapons one final time: her service Glock, the non-department issue .38 revolver strapped to her ankle, and the tactical knife secured at her lower back. Standard weapons, though she'd long since left standard procedure behind.

The moment Knox's men had entered her apartment and taken Ivy, the rulebook had become irrelevant. This wasn't about department protocol anymore. This was personal in a way nothing in Julia's career had ever been.

She moved forward in a crouch, using the shipping containers for cover as she approached the first guard position. The man stood with professional vigilance, weapon held in proper form, gaze systematically scanning his assigned sector. Military training, based on his positioning and awareness.

Julia weighed options with cold precision. A frontal approach would alert the entire facility. Stealth elimination risked discovery during patrol check-ins. The clock was ticking; Ivy was running out of time.

She made her decision, extracting the specialized weapon Morgan had procured from Chief Marten's private storage. The tranquilizer gun wasn't standard department issue—another line crossed in a mission that had already shattered boundaries. Julia calibrated the dosage, accounting for the guard's approximate weight and the need forimmediate incapacitation without permanent damage.

Legal arrest and processing would come later. For now, she needed him unconscious and out of communication.

She took position, controlling her breathing despite protesting ribs. The guard's patrol brought him toward her hiding spot, his focus on the perimeter rather than the shadows between containers. Julia waited until the perfect moment—his body shielding her from the sight lines of the main building, his radio transmission just completed with a standard all-clear.

She fired. The dart hit with perfect precision at the junction of neck and shoulder, delivering its payload directly into the carotid artery. The guard registered the impact, hand moving toward his weapon, but the fast-acting compound overcame training and reflexes. He crumpled silently to his knees, then toppled forward.

Julia was moving before he hit the ground, catching his body to prevent noise and dragging him into the shadow of the container. She secured him with restraints, confirmed his stable breathing, and relievedhim of his communications equipment. The radio would provide insight into Knox's security protocols.

One down. The path to Ivy narrowing.

The second perimeter guard proved more challenging. His position offered fewer approach options, his vantage point covering the most likely entry vectors. Julia studied his movements, recognizing the disciplined scan patterns of someone with formal tactical training.

Unlike the syndicate's standard muscle, these were professionals. Knox had upgraded his security assets since she and Ivy had begun dismantling his empire. Another indication of how serious a threat they posed.

Julia circled wide, using the lengthening afternoon shadows for additional cover. The tranquilizer gun would be less effective at this increased range, forcing her to close distance without detection.

The guard's radio crackled. "Griffin, status check."

Julia froze, listening intently as the guard responded. "Perimeter secure, sector three. No movement."

"Check on Maddox. He missed check-in."

The guard—Griffin—hesitated fractionally. "Copy. Moving to sector two."

Julia's tactical calculations shifted instantly. The missing check-in from the first guard had accelerated the timeline. Griffin was now moving toward her position, alert and expecting potential trouble.

She abandoned stealth in favor of speed, circling behind a stack of empty containers to intercept Griffin on his approach to his missing colleague. The element of surprise was her only advantage against an opponent in optimal position.

The guard moved with professional caution, weapon drawn, eyes constantly scanning. Julia waited until he passed her position, then stepped out, tranquilizer gun raised.

"Phoenix Ridge Police Department," she said, her voice low but carrying the authority of her badge. "Stand down."

Griffin spun with impressive speed, weapon coming to bear smoothly. Julia fired as he turned, the dart striking center mass but at a less optimal angle than the firstguard. The compound would take longer to deploy.

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