Chapter 12 - The Crucible of Salt and Iron
The lead Black Hawk helicopter banked hard fifty yards from Ambrose Light, the downdraft from its massive rotor blades whipping the ocean surface into a blinding vortex of salt foam.
High-velocity rifle rounds tore into the exterior concrete of the observation deck, kicking up sharp stone chips that peppered the iron frame of the door.
Adrian pulled Emma down behind the reinforced steel stanchion that supported the main navigation lantern above.
"They’re deploying fast ropes onto the upper platform!" Adrian yelled over the deafening roar of the helicopter turbines.
"Vance knows the structure is too solid to bring down with small arms, so he’s sending his kill squad to take the drives physically!"
Emma checked the glowing terminal display through the open hatchway: 48% COMPLETE.
"We need three more minutes, Adrian!" she shouted back, her ears ringing from the concussive pressure of the gunfire.
"If the signal drops before the secondary handshake, the files corrupt and the transmission fails!"
"You stay on the terminal!" Adrian ordered, his dark eyes burning with fierce, protective fury.
"Nobody touches that server while I have breath in my lungs!"
Adrian stepped out onto the open catwalk, raising his carbine toward the four tactical operators sliding down heavy nylon ropes onto the upper gantry.
He squeezed the trigger in controlled, lethal bursts.
The first operator lost his grip fifty feet in the air and plunged into the freezing ocean swells below.
The second mercenary collapsed onto the metal grating of the upper platform, his weapon skittering over the edge into the sea.
The remaining two operators hit the deck, rolling into cover behind the decommissioned generator housing and returning fire with automatic rifles.
Rounds ricocheted off the iron girders with deafening, metallic shrieks that sounded like tearing sheet metal.
From the cutter anchored three hundred yards away, Colonel Douglas Vance’s voice crackled through a high-frequency marine loudspeaker mounted on the vessel's mast.
"Emma! Listen to me!" Vance’s voice boomed across the water, distorted by the wind and the surf.
"Your father was a soldier who died for an obsolete concept of honor!"
"The world has moved on from Michael Russo’s petty morality!"
"Give me the terminal drives, step onto that cutter, and I swear on my uniform you will walk away from this with five million dollars in an offshore account!"
"You can go back to Pennsylvania, buy whatever life you want, and pretend this night never happened!"
Emma stepped into the open doorway of the console room, holding her father’s service weapon with two steady hands.
She didn't need a loudspeaker to make her answer heard.
"My father didn't die for an obsolete concept, Vance!" she screamed into the teeth of the gale.
"He died so he wouldn't have to look in the mirror and see a cowardly traitor like you!"
"You murdered his men for defense contracts and political kickbacks!"
"You held a gun to my mother's head while I was in her womb!"
"And now you're going to watch your entire empire burn to the ground on live television!"
On the patrol cutter, Vance’s expression darkened into an ugly, murderous snarl.
He lowered his microphone, turned to the naval gunner stationed behind the bridge's forward twenty-five-millimeter autocannon, and barked a single command.
"Level the observation deck."
"Sir, the server drives will be destroyed," the gunner cautioned.
"I don't care about the drives anymore!" Vance roared, his face purple with rage.
"Kill them both!"
The heavy autocannon began to rotate on its hydraulic mount, its massive barrel lowering to bear directly on the Ambrose Light housing.
Adrian saw the turret turn and recognized the catastrophic danger instantly.
"Autocannon! Emma, hit the deck!"
Adrian dove through the doorway, tackling Emma to the floor of the console room just as the heavy gun opened fire.
The high-explosive twenty-five-millimeter shells tore through the thin steel siding of the housing like paper, exploding inside the upper machinery room in deafening flashes of orange flame and shrapnel.
The shockwave lifted Emma and Adrian off the floor, slamming them into the reinforced concrete bulkhead at the rear of the chamber.
Smoke, choking fumes, and burning insulation filled the narrow space, making it impossible to breathe.
The green terminal on the desk flickered violently, its internal circuits crackling with static.
Emma crawled across the debris-covered floor on her hands and knees, ignoring the blistering heat of the metal casing.
She looked at the screen through bloodshot eyes: 89% COMPLETE.
"Almost there... come on... hold together..." Emma pleaded, her bleeding fingers pressing against the keyboard to stabilize the connection.
Above them, the remaining two mercenaries kicked open the upper hatch and began descending the interior metal stairs, their weapons raised.
Adrian rolled onto his back, drew his sidearm, and emptied his magazine straight up through the steel steps.
The rounds punched through the perforated iron, striking both operators in the torso and sending them tumbling down the flight of stairs in a tangle of tactical gear.
Outside, the autocannon ceased firing as the patrol cutter began to maneuver closer to the tower’s boarding ladder.
Colonel Vance was preparing to lead the final assault himself.
Emma stared at the screen as the transmission reached its climax: 98%... 99%...
A sharp, clear electronic chime echoed from the speakers: TRANSMISSION COMPLETE. ACKNOWLEDGMENT RECEIVED BY JSOC / NAVAL INTELLIGENCE / AP WIRE.
At that exact moment, the external power line running up from the ocean floor was severed by a secondary explosion, plunging the terminal into darkness.
Emma leaned her head against the console, a ragged, triumphant laugh escaping her throat.
"It's done," Emma whispered, looking over at Adrian, who was pulling himself up against the bulkhead with blood running down his left cheek.
"The world has the files."
Adrian wiped the blood from his brow, his dark face breaking into a fierce, dangerous smile.
May you like
"Then our work out here is finished, Colonel," Adrian said, checking his remaining ammunition.
"Now, we go settle the debt with the man who ordered the hit."
