Chapter 13 - The Siege Of Hemlock Ridge
Elena grabbed her service shotgun from the concealed rack behind the fireplace mantel, racking a shell into the chamber with a loud click.
"Marcus, shut down the terminal and save the unlocked ledger to an encrypted USB drive," Elena commanded, her voice calm and lethal.
"Evelyn, take Daniel’s portrait and get down into the storm cellar beneath the pantry floor."
"You do not open that hatch until you hear my voice, do you understand?"
Evelyn gripped Elena’s arm tightly, terror in her eyes, but she nodded with solemn resolve.
"Don't you dare die out here, Elena Brooks," Evelyn whispered fiercely.
"You are the only daughter I have left."
Elena helped the older woman down the wooden stairs of the cellar, locking the heavy steel-reinforced trapdoor from above.
Outside, three black high-clearance off-road vehicles came to a halt along the tree line fifty yards from the porch.
High-powered spotlights mounted on the vehicle roll bars snapped on, illuminating the front facade of the stone cabin in glaring white light.
A megaphone crackled from the darkness beyond the beam of the lights.
"Major Elena Brooks!" a voice with a harsh, raspy Slavic accent boomed across the clearing.
"This is Commander Viktor Kozlov."
"We have no quarrel with you or the pilot."
"Arthur Vance and Conrad Mercer are finished, but my clients require the return of our transaction ledger."
"And we require the canine carrying the biological signature for the master key."
"Send the dog out onto the porch with the drive, and you may walk down this mountain unharmed."
"Refuse, and we will burn this cabin to the foundation with everyone inside."
Elena moved to the side window, peering through a small notch in the heavy timber frame.
Six heavily armed mercenaries wearing night-vision goggles and tactical plate carriers were fanning out through the laurel bushes.
"They don't leave witnesses, Marcus," Elena said coldly without looking back.
"Kozlov executed three entire border patrol units in Romania to cover a shipment five years ago."
"If we surrender that drive, they will incinerate this ridge."
"We fight," Marcus agreed, racking the slide on his tactical submachine gun.
"I’ve got five magazines and two smoke canisters."
"How is your leg holding up?"
"It will hold until the last shell is spent," Elena replied, checking her sidearm holster.
She turned to Atlas, who stood beside her flank, his muscles tense like coiled steel springs.
"Atlas, seek and hold," Elena whispered, using Daniel’s specialized assault command.
The dog’s ears flattened against his skull, understanding the directive with lethal clarity.
Suddenly, a volley of suppressed automatic fire shattered the front windows, showering the cabin floor with broken glass and wooden splinters.
Two tear gas canisters crashed through the living room ceiling, hissing dense, choking white smoke into the air.
Elena fired two thunderous blasts from her shotgun through the shattered front window, shattering the headlights on the lead vehicle.
The clearing plunged into disorienting shadows lit only by the muzzle flashes of return fire.
Atlas did not wait for the smoke to clear.
The Malinois bounded through the broken side window into the darkness of the mountain brush, flanking the advancing assault team unseen.
A mercenary advancing up the porch steps was suddenly ripped off his feet as Atlas struck him from the blind spot beneath the railing.
A blood-curdling scream echoed through the mountain air as the mercenary dropped his rifle into the dirt.
Elena stepped onto the porch, firing three controlled shots that drove the remaining two flankers back behind the rock outcropping.
"Kozlov is moving toward the rear!" Marcus shouted from the kitchen, returning fire through the back door.
"He's carrying an incendiary launcher!"
Elena bolted through the smoke-filled hallway toward the rear of the cabin, her knee brace screaming in protest under the sudden impact.
Through the rear screen door, she saw Viktor Kozlov, a hulking figure in a dark trench coat, aiming a tactical launcher at the cabin's timber roof.
"Drop it!" Elena shouted, raising her sidearm.
Kozlov pivoted with unnatural speed, firing a sidearm round that grazed Elena’s left shoulder, spinning her against the door frame.
Before Kozlov could align his weapon for a second shot, a dark shadow launched through the air from the roofline above.
Atlas had scaled the woodpile behind the cabin and dropped directly onto Kozlov’s shoulders like a striking hawk.
The massive mercenary collapsed onto the gravel, struggling wildly against the dog's crushing grip on his tactical vest.
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Kozlov reached down for a combat knife tucked into his boot, drawing the eight-inch blade into the moonlight.
"Atlas, disarm!" Elena roared, ignoring the burning wound on her shoulder as she charged across the dirt.
