Chapter 29 - The Architect Unmasked
The rear blast door of the subterranean facility blew outward in a wall of orange fire and black smoke.
Out of the burning cavern, an armored personnel carrier rolled forward, its turret-mounted heavy machine gun sweeping the tarmac with brutal .50-caliber fire. The rounds chewed through the concrete barriers like cardboard, sending chips of rock and frozen mud flying across our perimeter.
"Take cover!" I screamed, tackling Abigail behind the reinforced chassis of the second transport truck just as a hail of heavy caliber rounds sheared off the mirror and tore through the cab above our heads.
One of our operators went down, clutching his thigh, dragged instantly into cover by Vance while laying down returning suppression fire with a light machine gun.
Through the smoke of the blown blast door, a figure walked out behind the armored carrier.
He wore no helmet. He wore a heavy sheepskin coat over a charcoal uniform, completely unfazed by the raging firefight or the howling blizzard. In his gloved hands, he carried an antique ivory-handled cane.
It was Victor Sterling.
Arthur Sterling's older brother. Julian’s uncle. The reclusive billionaire patriarch who had supposedly died in a private plane crash over the North Sea in 2009.
The true head of the Sterling dynasty.
"Eleanor!" Victor’s voice boomed through an external loudspeaker mounted on the armored vehicle, distorted, resonant, and cold as the Arctic wind. "Thirty-four years of service, and you still think in terms of borders and flags! Did you really believe my fool of a brother Arthur was capable of conceiving this? Did you really believe your pathetic, soft-hearted husband died for an audit?"
Abigail peeked around the heavy tire, her eyes blazing with fury. "He’s alive... Mom, he’s the one who funded Julian's legal trusts. His signature was on the offshore accounts!"
"Victor!" I shouted over the gunfire, my voice echoing off the sheer rock faces of the mountain. "Your family is wiped out! Arthur is dead! Julian died screaming in an isolation cell! Vance-Keller is in chains! You have nowhere to run!"
Victor laughed—a dry, booming sound that echoed above the crackle of burning tires and gunfire.
"Julian was a defective seed! Arthur was a coward who couldn't stomach the price of progress! But this—" Victor raised his cane, pointing toward the heavy transport trucks behind us. "This is fifty billion dollars of leverage. The world is breaking apart, Eleanor. The old empires are rotting. And those who control the guidance systems of the next war will write the laws of the next century!"
"Not today, Victor!"
I looked at Abigail. "Abby. The thermite grenade on my chest harness. Can you reach the fuel tanks of that armored carrier?"
Abigail looked at the heavy carrier fifty yards away, its machine gun continuing to hammer our position, pinning down Vance and the rest of our strike team. She looked at the grenade strapped to my vest, then met my eyes.
There was no fear in her. No hesitation. Only the cold, brilliant steel of the Gardner bloodline.
May you like
"Cover me," she said.
***
