Chapter 5 - Ambush in the Underbelly
The roar of gunfire reverberated through the subterranean concrete chamber, bouncing off the steel shelves like thunder.
“Leo!” Declan shouted, instantly drawing his suppressed SIG Sauer and pulling Sadie down behind the heavy mahogany desk.
“Contact! Front entrance!” Leo’s voice roared back over the gunfire. “Four tangos, heavy tactical armor! They breached through the cellar service shaft!”
Declan didn't hesitate. He reached into the lower compartment of the desk, pulling out a compact MPX submachine gun and two extra magazines. He tossed one magazine into his pocket and racked the weapon with fluid, terrifying efficiency.
“Stay down,” Declan commanded, his voice cold and steady. “Don’t move from behind this desk.”
“Declan, they have thermal gear if they blew the service shaft,” Sadie said urgently, grabbing his arm. “They’ll see through the wooden desk.”
Declan looked at her, his eyes blazing with adrenaline. “Then we move fast.”
He leaned around the doorframe of the private archive and fired three controlled bursts. A muffled scream and the heavy thud of a body hitting the concrete floor signaled a hit.
Return fire tore through the doorway, splintering the rosewood paneling and shredding ancient books into confetti. Paper flew through the air like a blizzard.
Declan ducked back, reloading smoothly.
“Leo, flank right!” Declan shouted.
“Moving!”
Another spray of automatic fire erupted from the right aisle as Leo engaged the intruders with suppressive fire.
Sadie looked around the small archive room. On the wall behind the desk hung an old glass display case holding historical firearms. Without hesitating, Sadie grabbed a heavy brass bookend from the desk and smashed the glass.
She reached in and grabbed a vintage Colt 1911 .45 ACP, pulled the slide back to check the chamber—it was loaded, oiled, and functional—and released the slide with a crisp clack.
Declan turned, seeing his quiet secretary holding a loaded .45 with a flawless combat grip, her stance low and balanced.
“Where did you learn to handle a 1911?” Declan barked over the gunfire.
“My dad was an enthusiast,” Sadie fired back, her eyes sharp and completely devoid of fear.
Before Declan could respond, a smoke canister rolled through the doorway, hissing thick, blinding white smoke into the room.
“Move!” Declan grabbed Sadie’s belt and hauled her toward the emergency egress door hidden behind a bookshelf at the back of the archive.
A heavily armed operative in black tactical gear burst through the smoke, raising an assault rifle directly at Declan’s back.
Sadie didn't wait.
She raised the heavy .45, aligned the iron sights, and squeezed the trigger twice.
BANG. BANG.
The heavy .45 caliber rounds struck the operative square in the center of his chest plate, the kinetic force knocking him backward onto the stone floor before he could fire.
Declan spun around, his eyes locking onto the fallen shooter, then onto Sadie, who was already scanning the smoke for the next target.
“Nice shot,” Declan murmured grimly.
“He was aiming at your spine,” Sadie replied, her breath steady.
Declan kicked open the emergency exit door, revealing a narrow stone tunnel used during Prohibition for smuggling alcohol out to the woods.
“Leo, rally point Bravo!” Declan spoke into his tactical radio.
“Right behind you, boss! Two down, one fleeing toward the woods!” Leo’s voice came back through the static.
Declan pushed Sadie into the tunnel. “Run. Straight ahead, three hundred yards. It exits into the old hunting lodge.”
They sprinted through the damp, narrow tunnel, the sound of distant explosions and alarms ringing behind them. The cold air rushed against Sadie’s face, her lungs burning, the stitches in her arm pulling painfully with every movement.
They emerged through a concealed trapdoor inside the floor of a dilapidated wooden hunting lodge deep in the pine forest.
Leo arrived two minutes later, his shoulder grazed by shrapnel, his tactical vest smeared with soot.
“They were professionals,” Leo panted, slamming the trapdoor shut and locking the iron bar across it. “No insignia, sanitized gear, European communications. But boss... they weren’t here to kill us.”
Declan wiped a streak of gunpowder residue from his cheek. “What were they doing?”
“They had an incendiary charge,” Leo said grimly. “They weren't trying to loot the vault. They were trying to incinerate the 1990s manifest section. They wanted to destroy the records before we could read them.”
May you like
Declan stood silent for a long moment, the forest wind rustling the branches above them. His gaze slowly shifted to Sadie, who was carefully holstering the vintage Colt 1911 into her waistband.
“They were too late,” Declan said slowly. “We already found what they were hiding.”
