Chapter 7 - The Extraction Plan
The smoke from the shattered patio lights billowed thick and white, smelling of burnt wiring and gunpowder.
From inside the house, my mother’s terrified sobbing cut through the night, punctuated by my father’s desperate, raspy shouts for help. But we couldn't go inside; the house was a fishbowl, surrounded on three sides by operators with thermal optics and suppressed weapons.
"The tactical van," I said, pointing toward the heavy, matte-black vehicle that had just broken through the wooden fence at the end of the long driveway, its engine idling with a deep, menacing rumble. "They left the driver inside."
Ethan squinted through the haze, assessing the angles. "Two in the front, probably a comms officer in the back. If we take them, we get wheels and their encrypted radio frequencies."
"I'll handle the driver's side," I said, my voice dropping into the cold, clinical register of a field operative. The frightened, subservient waitress who had poured champagne hours ago had vanished, replaced by the ghost they thought they had buried in Kandahar.
Ethan gave me a sharp, approving nod. "On my three. One... two... three."
We broke cover simultaneously, sprinting low through the wet grass toward the idling van. The driver’s side door of the vehicle swung open just as we reached it, another operative stepping down with a rifle already coming up to bear.
I didn't give him time to level the barrel. I lunged upward, slamming my booted foot directly into his chest. He staggered back against the door frame, and before he could recover, Ethan swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing hard onto the gravel.
I vaulted into the driver’s seat, shoving the startled communications specialist aside before he could grab his sidearm. With a swift elbow strike to his jaw, I cleared the cab, slammed the van into reverse, and threw my weight onto the gas pedal.
The heavy vehicle roared backward, tearing up the sod and slamming into the second intruder who had rushed out from the side gate.
"Get in, Ethan!" I yelled over the screaming engine.
Ethan hauled himself into the passenger side just as a fresh burst of automatic fire chewed through the rear panel of the van, the metal whining under the impact. I jerked the steering wheel hard, spinning the vehicle around in a wide arc of flying gravel and mud, and plowed straight through the front security gates of my parents' estate.
As we rocketed onto the deserted Arlington street, the dashboard radio hissed to life, an encrypted voice barking orders over a secure frequency.
"Alpha Team, status report! Did you secure the package?"
I glanced at Ethan. He reached across the console, grabbed the handset, clicked the transmit button, and spoke with ice running through his veins.
"Package secured," Ethan growled into the mic, mimicking the operator’s cadence. "Target area is clean. Moving to secondary extraction."
The voice on the other end paused, then replied, "Copy that. Bring them to the river facility. The Director is waiting."
May you like
Ethan clicked off, his face grim. "The Director," he repeated softly. "Looks like the leak goes all the way to the top of the Agency."
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