Chapter 39 - The Counter-Strike
The squad leader stared at his decryption laptop in absolute horror as the screen flashed bright red, displaying a massive, undeniable system failure warning.
"It's a trap!" the leader shouted, ripping the cable from the server. "The drive is rigged! Fall back! Fall back to the boats!"
"Now, Arthur!" I yelled into the comms.
My father did not hesitate. "Light them up!"
Instantly, the massive, high-intensity thermal spotlights mounted in the rafters flared to life, blinding the night-vision goggles of the mercenaries. The sudden, excruciating burst of white light caused the elite squad to stumble blindly, firing erratic, suppressed shots into the air.
Simultaneously, the non-lethal flashbang tripwires triggered at the exit doors, exploding with deafening, concussive blasts that effectively sealed their escape route.
My father’s security team, executing a flawless pincer movement from the catwalks and the side corridors, opened fire with non-lethal rubber baton rounds and tear gas canisters. We didn't want a massacre; we wanted prisoners.
The warehouse erupted into absolute chaos. Thick, acrid tear gas filled the concrete floor. The highly trained mercenaries, blinded, deafened, and choking on the gas, were systematically neutralized by our superior tactical positioning. Within three minutes, all twelve men were disarmed, zip-tied, and forced onto their knees by my father’s elite contractors.
I walked down the metal stairs from the catwalk, stepping onto the warehouse floor as the smoke began to clear. I approached the squad leader, who was coughing violently, his tactical mask ripped off.
"Where is Julian Cross?" I demanded, staring down at him with cold, unrelenting authority.
The mercenary glared up at me, blood dripping from his nose. "You are a dead woman. Julian is watching the feed from a secure location. He knows what you did. He is coming for you."
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My earpiece crackled to life. It was Vivian.
"Clara, David just isolated Julian’s GPS signal from the hack," Vivian reported, her voice breathless with excitement. "He isn't in a secure location. He is sitting in a private jet on the runway at Logan International Airport, trying to flee the country before the FBI arrives!"
