Chapter 4 - SHADOWS ON THE TARMAC
"Down!" I yelled, grabbing Admiral Bennett’s collar and dragging him behind the reinforced steel framework of the executive desk just as the first burst of 9mm rounds shattered the decorative glass panels above our heads.
The sound inside the enclosed office was deafening. Sterling didn't flinch; he had already dropped into a low crouch and was sliding through a concealed egress door behind the credenza.
"Sterling's rabbiting!" Bennett shouted over the din of ricocheting lead.
"Let him run!" I shouted back, coughing as drywall dust filled the air. "The server room is in Sub-Level Three! If he wipes the local mainframe, every shipping manifest and offshore account number disappears forever!"
I unholstered my Sig Sauer P320—the only weapon I had managed to smuggle onto the base inside my locked medical kit. I peeked around the corner of the heavy oak desk. Two shooters were advancing through the breached doorway, moving in classic rolling-thunder formation, clearing corners with mechanical precision.
They were good. But they were moving too fast, assuming their targets were an elderly admiral and an injured woman.
Mistake.
I waited for the lead operator to step across the threshold. The moment his left foot planted, I leaned out, aligned my tritium front sight with the unarmored junction between his neck and shoulder, and squeezed the trigger twice.
Double tap.
The suppressed rounds dropped the first shooter instantly. His partner reacted in a fraction of a second, sweeping his weapon toward me, but Bennett had already grabbed the fallen operator's carbine from the floor and fired a controlled three-round burst that took the second shooter down.
"Not bad for an old flag officer, huh?" Bennett wheezed, adjusting his glasses.
"Your grouping was two inches high, Admiral," I said, offering a tight grimace as I hauled myself to my feet. My cracked ribs sent white-hot agony through my chest, but adrenaline was flooding my bloodstream, masking the worst of it. "We have four minutes before the secondary team seals the elevator shafts."
We stripped the ammunition magazines and tactical headsets from the fallen contractors. I switched the comm unit to channel four, listening to the frantic chatter crackling through the frequency.
“—Target Vance is active and armed. I repeat, the investigator is tactical. Chief Reed has been broken out of the brig. Rendezvous at Pier 9 for immediate extraction of Asset Alpha—”
"They broke Reed out," Bennett said grimly, chambering a round into his captured rifle. "Sterling is pulling his assets out by sea."
"Asset Alpha isn't equipment, Admiral," I said, connecting the dots in my head as we moved into the dimly lit corridor. "The missing manifest didn't just list weapons. It listed personnel transfers. Reed and Sterling aren't just selling guns. They're trafficking classified weapons designers."
We reached the service stairwell. The lights flickered and died as the base power grid was systematically severed by Sterling’s team. Red emergency strobes cast long, bleeding shadows down the concrete steps.
As we descended toward the subterranean levels, the distant sound of heavy marine diesel engines echoed up through the ventilation shafts. A ship was spooling its turbines at the deepwater docks.
May you like
And somewhere in the dark below us, Chief Walker Reed was waiting.
***
