Chapter 5 - The Ambush at the Surface
"Stay down!" Frank shouted, instantly dropping into a combat crouch and raising his Glock 17 toward the cellar stairs.
Mark shielded Eleanor with his entire body, pressing her down onto the cot, his jaw set like granite. "What was that? Where is Lily?!"
"Radio check! Alpha Two, report!" Frank barked into his shoulder mic.
Static hissed over the speaker, followed by a breathless, panicked voice: *"We have a breach! Black SUV pulled into the service bay! Two shooters—automatic weapons! They took down Hayes at the kitchen perimeter! They're trying to extract Victoria!"*
"And Lily?!" Mark roared, his voice cutting through the gunfire echoing above.
*"Johnson has the girl in the pantry! We're pinned down! We need backup!"*
Mark looked down at Eleanor. Her hazel eyes were wide with terror, the drugs momentarily forgotten as the instinct of a mother surged to the surface. "Lily..." she gasped, clawing at Mark's lapel with her thin fingers. "Don't let them take her, Mark. Victoria needs Lily alive to claim the trust! If she takes Lily out of the country, she’ll kill her after the funds clear!"
"Nobody is taking our daughter," Mark said, his voice flat, ice-cold, devoid of fear.
He reached down to Frank's tactical vest, grabbing the spare Glock 19 holstered at the agent's side. He checked the chamber with a crisp, practiced metallic slide—one round in the chamber, seventeen in the mag.
"Frank, you stay here with Eleanor. You protect her with your life. Anyone walks down these stairs who isn't wearing a Vance security badge, you put two rounds in their chest."
"Sir, you can't go up there alone!" Frank protested. "These aren't petty thieves. Those are contracted mercenaries!"
"They came into my house," Mark said, his eyes blazing with a fury that could incinerate steel. "They starved my child. They buried my wife alive. They're not walking out of here."
Mark moved up the stone staircase with silent, predatory speed.
As he reached the top landing, the servant's corridor was thick with the acrid smoke of burnt gunpowder. The sharp smell of cordite stung his nostrils. The floor was littered with spent 9mm shell casings and shattered glass from the kitchen's decorative displays.
Through the doorway, Mark saw the scene.
Victoria was standing near the center island, no longer in tears. She wore a heavy black trench coat over her torn dress. Beside her stood two men clad in unmarked tactical gray uniforms, sporting balaclavas and submachine guns. One of Mark’s private guards lay motionless near the refrigerator, blood pooling around his shoulder.
In the corner, backed against the commercial pantry door, was Agent Johnson. His service weapon was empty on the floor, his hands held high in surrender. Behind his legs, small and terrified, Lily was curled into a ball, weeping silently.
A third man entered through the shattered kitchen patio door—tall, silver-haired, wearing an expensive camel-hair coat and carrying a medical briefcase.
Dr. Julian Hayes.
"Wrap it up, Victoria!" Hayes hissed, his voice frantic as sirens began to wail in the far distance, approaching down the two-mile private driveway of the estate. "Police are almost at the front gate! Grab the girl and the documents! We have the jet fueled at Teterboro!"
"Get the kid!" Victoria snapped, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at Lily. "Kill the guard and grab her! If we don't have Lily, the offshore accounts won't release the Swiss clearance tomorrow morning!"
One of the armed mercenaries raised his suppressed submachine gun, aiming directly at Agent Johnson's forehead.
Mark didn't hesitate.
May you like
He stepped out from the corridor threshold, leveled his weapon, and fired.
***
