Chapter 9 - Crossfire on the Catwalk
“Boss!” Javier’s voice crackled through the comms in my ear, sharp and urgent. “We’ve got movement! Front and rear doors just breached! O’Neill’s cleanup crew, plus a federal tactical unit moving in from the access road! We’re boxed!”
Khloe’s face lost the last trace of color. “They tracked the drive’s internal ping. I thought we had another hour.”
“You left the burner phone active in the van,” I said, my voice cutting through her panic. I drew my sidearm, racking a round into the chamber with a sharp, definitive snap. “Move behind me.”
“Victor, wait—”
A heavy-caliber round slammed into the steel beam inches from my head, showering us with hot sparks and shredded metal.
Down on the floor level, muzzle flashes erupted from the darkness near the locomotive’s wheels. O’Neill’s enforcers had arrived, and they weren't interested in taking prisoners or recovering data—they were here to sterilize the entire site.
“Javier! Fall back to the catwalk stairs!” I yelled into my earpiece, leaning over the railing and returning fire down toward the muzzle flashes.
Two men in tactical gear dropped behind a row of oil drums as my rounds chewed through the concrete floor near their boots.
Suddenly, the heavy steel doors at the far end of the shed blew inward with a deafening crash. A blinding wall of white tactical floodlights swept across the interior, followed by the booming voice of a megaphone.
“Federal Bureau of Investigation! Drop your weapons and step away from the ledge! You are completely surrounded!”
Federal tactical teams were pouring through the front entrance, their shields locked, their assault rifles raised. O’Neill’s men opened fire on the feds, turning the repair shed into a chaotic warzone of crossfire, ricocheting lead, and screaming metal.
“We’re caught between O’Neill’s hit squad and federal custody!” Khloe yelled over the deafening roar of automatic gunfire, grabbing my arm. “If the feds take this drive, O’Neill’s corrupt insiders will delete the files within ten minutes and we’ll both be spending the rest of our lives in a black site!”
I looked down at the chaos below. The roof hatch above the diesel engine hung open, caught on a rusted chain, leading out to the exterior rail gantry and the open yards beyond.
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“Can you climb?” I asked, grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her up onto the catwalk railing.
“With my life on the line? Absolutely,” she gasped.
