Part 21:
Daniel waited in the shadows until the man passed, then struck with precise force a chokeold that cut off consciousness without permanent damage. He zip tied the unconscious operative and took his equipment, a Chinese-made tactical rifle, night vision goggles, and a communications device crackling with Mandarin. One down, he reported to Jake.
Two more entering the R&D level. They’ve got some kind of electronic lock breaker. Daniel moved toward R&D, but his phone buzzed with a security alert from the command center. Someone was trying to override the lock. Clara was trapped. He ran, no longer caring about stealth. The executive elevator was locked down, so he took the stairs three at a time, his healing arm protesting with each swing.
17th floor, 18th 19th. Gunfire erupted somewhere below. Jake’s team had engaged. Multiple hostiles in the parking structure, Jake reported, “We’re pinned. Can’t provide support.” Daniel reached the command center hallway to find two operatives working on the door. They turned at his approach weapons rising.
Daniel dove left as bullets sparked off the marble walls. He rolled behind a decorative pillar, mind racing. Two against one. They had superior position and Clara was trapped behind them. Then he heard at the fire alarm. Clara had triggered it from inside the command center. The sprinkler system activated, dousing the hallway in torrents of water.
The operatives night vision became useless water droplets fracturing the infrared into chaos. Daniel moved in the confusion muscle memory from a dozen night raids in Afghanistan guiding him. The first operative went down to a strike to the knee, followed by an elbow to the temple. The second managed to get a shot off the bullet, grazing Daniel’s ribs before he could disarm and neutralize him. Clear.
He gasped into his mic, then pounded on the command center door. Clara, it’s me. The door opened and Clara pulled him inside, her eyes wide at the blood spreading across his shirt. You’re hit. Grazed. I’m fine. Though fine was relative, the pain was significant and growing. We need to move. They know you’re here now. the FBI. 20 minutes out, according to Jake.
We need to survive until then. Through the monitors, they could see chaos throughout the building. Jake’s team had engaged multiple operatives in the parking structure. Security guards were in firefights they’d never trained for, and somewhere Miranda Chen was probably coordinating it all. There, Clare pointed to a monitor.
Is that Daniel looked and felt his blood run cold. Ethan was on the screen standing in the lobby with Mrs. Chen. Not Miranda. Mrs. Chen, his neighbor looking terrified as armed operatives surrounded them. No, Daniel breathed. No, no, no. His phone rang. Unknown number. Mr. Hayes. A cultured voice with a slight accent said.
I believe we have something that belongs to you. If you heard him. We have no interest in hurting children, but you have something we want, and now we have leverage. What do you want? Clara Donovan, bring her to the lobby. You can take your son and go. Everyone wins. Daniel looked at Clara, who’d heard everything through the phone speaker.
She was already shaking her head. That’s not happening, Daniel said. Then your son will pay for your stubbornness. The line went dead. Daniel stood frozen for a moment, every instinct screaming in different directions. Save Ethan. Protect Clara. Complete the mission. Be a father. Be a soldier. Go, Clara said quietly. What? Go save your son.
I’ll handle this. They’ll take you. Maybe, but Ethan doesn’t deserve to suffer for our fight. She moved to the weapons locker, pulling out a pistol with surprising familiarity. I’m not helpless, Daniel. Go. I can’t leave you. You can’t let them hurt Ethan. We both know that. She checked the pistol’s magazine with practiced ease.
Besides, I have backup coming. 20 minutes is forever when your child is in danger. I know. Go. Daniel looked at her. This remarkable woman who was willing to face danger alone so he could save his son. I’m coming back for you. I’m counting on it. He ran for the stairs, taking them so fast he nearly fell twice into his mic.
Jake, they have Ethan in the lobby. Multiple hostiles. Copy. We’re trying to break through, but they’ve got us pinned. I’m going in alone. That’s suicide. That’s fatherhood. Daniel reached the second floor and stopped. Going through the main lobby entrance would get him and Ethan killed, but the maintenance tunnels Marcus had never mapped connected to the lobby’s ventilation system.
He could come up behind them. He crawled through dusty vents following the sound of voices until he could see through a grate. Eight operatives in tactical gear. Mrs. Chen holding Ethan’s hand in the center of their formation. His son’s face was pale but determined that Hayes stubbornness already showing through fear.
“My dad’s going to stop you,” Ethan was saying with complete confidence. “He stopped the bad man at the mall.” One operative laughed. “Your father is one man. We are many. He’s not just one man,” Ethan said. “He’s my dad.” The simple faith in those words nearly broke Daniel’s composure. He positioned himself above the group calculating angles.
Eight operatives, all armed, all alert. He had one partially loaded rifle in surprise. Then he saw movement on the monitors visible through the security desk. Clara was on the move, but not running. She was heading toward the lobby, pistol in hand. “No,” Daniel whispered. “She was going to trade herself for Ethan. He had seconds to act before she arrived and everything went to hell.
Daniel kicked out the great and dropped 15 ft onto the nearest operative. The man crumpled under the impact. Daniel rolled came up firing. Two more operatives down before they could react. Ethan down. His son dropped flat, pulling Mrs. Chen with him. Daniel moved through the chaos like death itself, every motion precise and lethal.
Another operative fell to a strike that shattered his larynx. The fifth took a bullet to the shoulder that spun him into a marble pillar. The remaining three had recovered from their surprise and were returning fire. Daniel dove behind the security desk as bullets shredded the air where he’d been. He was pinned out of ammunition and Ethan was still in the line of fire.
Then Clara appeared in the doorway, her pistol raised. She fired with surprising accuracy, dropping one operative who’d been flanking Daniel’s position. The distraction was enough. Daniel vaulted over the desk, closing the distance to the nearest threat. They went down in a tangle of limbs, fighting for control of the rifle. A shot rang out.
Daniel felt the bullet pass inches from his head. The last operative had a clear shot and was lining up another. Dad Ethan had grabbed a fallen operative’s weapon, the rifle almost as big as he was. He was trying to lift it to help, but he was 8 years old and the weapon was too heavy. The operative turned toward the boy and Daniel saw his own death in that motion.
