Chapter 11 - The Gunfire in the Mist
"Sniper! Down!" Agent Torres roared, tackling me to the stone floor of the mausoleum just as a high-velocity round punched through the heavy bronze door, sending stone shrapnel spraying across the interior.
Chloe wasn't with me—thank God, she was safe at the Westchester safe house under the guard of four marshals—but the sheer, primal instinct to survive surged through my veins like fire.
Vance drew his Glock instantly, pressing his back against the granite wall beside the entrance. "Torres! Status!"
"Suppressed fire from the tree line near the northern ridge!" Torres shouted, pulling his sidearm while keeping his body positioned over mine. "That's not Daniel! That's Sterling’s contractors! They must have had a tracker on Madison's location or intercepted the safe house communications!"
Another round slammed into the stone angel just outside the archway, blowing its marble wing into powder.
"They don't want the drive!" I gasped, clutching the Pelican case to my chest. "They want the recording! Sterling knows what’s on it!"
"They aren't getting either," Vance said, his face cold, professional, and deadly. He pulled his radio from his tactical belt. "Command, this is Vance! Shots fired at Oakwood Cemetery! Officer under attack, federal witness on site! We need tactical air support and emergency perimeter containment immediately! Code Red!"
Outside, the hum of high-powered engines rumbled through the mist. Two black SUVs with reinforced bull bars roared up the gravel path, their high beams blinding the interior of the mausoleum.
Men in tactical gear, carrying suppressed carbines, stepped out into the rain.
"Agent Vance!" a voice boomed from a loudspeaker on the lead vehicle—a voice devoid of accent, cold and clinical. "Throw out the Pelican case and the woman! You have thirty seconds before we breach the structure with thermite! Your local backup is twenty minutes away! Do not die for a corporate dispute!"
"Vance," I whispered, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. "They’re going to kill us."
"They’re going to try," Vance said coldly. He looked at Torres. "Torres, the crypt ventilation shaft at the rear. It leads to the lower terrace drainage canal. Can you get Rachel through?"
"The grate is rusted, but I can kick it out," Torres replied.
"Go," Vance ordered, clicking off the safety of his weapon. "I’ll draw their fire at the archway."
"Vance, no!" I grabbed his sleeve. "You can't hold off six men alone!"
Vance looked down at me, his eyes burning with an intense, unyielding resolve. "Your father was a friend of my family, Rachel. I didn't tell you this, but David Hall paid for my law school tuition when my own father went bankrupt. I owe David his justice. Now take that case, get through that canal, and don't stop running until you see federal cruisers."
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Before I could argue, Vance stepped into the archway, leveled his firearm, and began firing with rapid, disciplined precision into the headlights of the lead SUV.
***
