Chapter 9: The Tactical Takedown
He never reached her.
Before his boots could even clear the edge of the mahogany desk, the office double doors were occupied by three burly American security guards dressed in matching, fitted black tactical suits. They moved with a terrifying, synchronized efficiency.
The lead guard intercepted Fernando mid-air, wrapping his massive arms around Fernando’s waist in a brutal, crushing tackle. The secondary guards swarmed instantly, grabbing Fernando’s limbs and shifting his momentum entirely away from the wife.
With a heavy, resounding thud, they forcefully slammed Fernando’s body against the solid concrete structural wall near the bookshelves.
Thud.
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“Get off me! I’ll kill you! I’ll destroy all of you!” Fernando screamed, his face pressed hard against the drywall, his expensive silk tie twisted around his neck, his navy jacket ripped at the seam. He struggled wildly, kicking his legs and thrashing his torso with the frantic, useless energy of a trapped animal.
The guards didn't say a word. They applied continuous, calculated pressure, pinning his arms behind his back and clicking a pair of heavy steel handcuffs tightly around his wrists.
