Chapter 39 - Storm Over the North Sea
The North Sea was a roiling cauldron of black water and white froth under a midnight sky torn apart by gale-force winds.
Rising out of the crashing waves like an ancient iron leviathan was *The Bastion*—a decommissioned Cold War anti-aircraft platform retrofitted into an impenetrable private fortress. Searchlights cut through the driving rain, sweeping across the dark waters.
Two rigid-hull inflatable tactical boats sliced through the swells, invisible to radar under the storm's electromagnetic noise. In the lead boat, Eleanor Vance stood braced against the spray, wearing full black tactical assault gear, a lightweight Kevlar vest over her chest, and an automatic rifle slung across her back.
Behind her sat Julian and ten heavily armed ex-special forces operators supplied by Nikolai Voronin, their faces obscured by ballistic masks.
"Two minutes to the lower docking gantry!" Julian shouted over the roar of the engines and the howling wind. "The Cardinal’s private security detail is armed with heavy machine guns on the upper deck. Once we breach the landing, there’s no retreat!"
"We don't need a retreat," Eleanor said, checking the timer strapped to her wrist.
Four hours had passed since Leo was exposed. Her son was currently lying in an induced cryogenic coma aboard their medical jet in Antwerp, hooked to a life-support system that bought him two extra hours of survival.
"Grapple hooks ready!" Julian ordered.
Two pneumatic launchers fired compressed-air cables, anchoring onto the rusted steel girders of the platform forty feet above. Julian and Eleanor ascended the cables like phantoms, hauling themselves onto the metal catwalk just as an alarm siren shrieked through the storm.
"Intruders on Gantry Bravo!" a voice blared over the fortress loudspeakers in Italian.
Gunfire erupted instantly. Tracers cut through the torrential rain. Eleanor didn't flinch; she raised her weapon and eliminated two guards on the upper walkway with precise, controlled bursts. Julian flanked the control room, kicking open the reinforced hatch and tossing a stun grenade inside.
The explosion shook the catwalk. Eleanor charged into the interior corridor, stepping over fallen security personnel, her boots splashing through pools of rainwater and blood.
She kicked open the double doors of the central medical laboratory. Inside, behind a reinforced glass partition, stood a dozen centrifuges spinning refrigerated vials of amber liquid.
"The antidote," Julian breathed, moving toward the console.
Eleanor stepped into the center of the laboratory, her weapon raised. "Where is Jonathan Vance?" she called out into the shadows. "Come out, Jonathan! Face the woman who destroyed your brother!"
May you like
A slow, deliberate clapping echoed from the darkness of the elevated observation gallery above.
***
