Chapter 23 - The Crimson Ledger
The distraction worked for a split second, but operatives of this caliber didn't panic. The lead mercenary immediately pivoted back toward the parlor archway, his night-vision tracking Emily’s thermal signature as she lunged forward. With a ferocious swing, she brought the heavy iron fireplace poker down hard against the man’s tactical helmet with a deafening *clang*.
The impact sent a shockwave up Emily’s arms, numbing her fingers, but the mercenary staggered back, disoriented by the concussive blow. Before he could recover, Emily swept his legs out from under him with a brutal kick, sending him crashing hard onto the marble floor.
"Clear!" the second operative shouted in a gruff, mechanical voice, stepping past his fallen comrade and raising his weapon directly at Emily’s chest.
Emily froze, the iron poker slipping from her numbed fingers and clattering onto the floor. The barrel of the suppressed weapon was dead-set between her eyes. The green glow of the man's goggles illuminated a jagged scar running down his jawline.
"End of the line, Mrs. Sterling," the second operative growled, his finger tightening slightly on the trigger. "Give us the drive, or your daughter joins you in the cold."
"You wouldn't dare," Arthur rasped, mustering every ounce of his old patriarch authority as he pushed himself up from his chair, trembling with rage. "This is my house! You step away from her!"
The mercenary didn't even look at Arthur. He simply reached out with his left hand to grab Emily by the collar of her blazer. But before his gloved fingers could make contact, the entire room flickered violently as the estate’s auxiliary backup generators finally roared to life. Brilliant, blinding halogen chandeliers flooded the foyer and parlor with harsh white light.
Simultaneously, the front security doors were blown inward with a deafening explosion of splintered wood and flying iron bolts.
"Federal Agents! Freeze! Drop your weapons!" a thunderous chorus of voices echoed through the foyer as a heavily armed tactical SWAT team poured through the shattered doorway, lasers painting the walls in a web of red dots.
The mercenary holding Emily tried to pivot his weapon toward the new threat, but a deafening volley of non-lethal flashbang grenades detonated in the corridor, filling the air with blinding white light and a concussive boom that rattled the windows. The operatives were swarmed, tackled, and pinned to the marble floor in a matter of seconds, zip-ties ratcheting tight around their wrists with harsh plastic clicks.
Emily dropped to her knees, gasping for air, her hands shaking uncontrollably as the adrenaline finally began to recede.
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A tall man in a tailored dark overcoat stepped through the smoke, flashing a federal badge embossed with the eagle of the Department of Justice. He looked down at Emily with a sharp, professional expression. "Mrs. Sterling? I’m Special Agent Vance, FBI Financial Crimes Division. You just helped us intercept the final node of the largest international money-laundering ring in the eastern seaboard."
***
