Chapter 9 - The Ash and the Bullet
"No!" Sterling’s civilized facade vanished in a split second of unbridled hysteria. He lunged toward the burning porch, his walking cane dropping onto the gravel.
In that fraction of a second, Nathan shouted at the top of his lungs: "Down! Clara, get down!"
Nathan threw himself over Clara and Toby, pinning them flat against the damp earth behind the iron engine block of the nearest ATV.
A crack echoed from the eastern ridge—the enemy sniper fired. The high-caliber round smashed into the ground where Nathan’s head had been half a second earlier, showering dirt over his back.
Arthur, lying on the gravel, seized the moment. With a surge of adrenaline born from decades of survival, the old man swept his cane across Sterling’s ankles. Sterling went down hard on his knees, cursing violently.
Nathan rolled from behind the truck, drew his combat sidearm, and fired two rounds straight through the windshield of the lead ATV, severing the vehicle's fuel line. A spark from the porch fire ignited the leaking gasoline, creating an immediate, deafening fireball that sent a wall of thick black smoke between the driveway and the snipers on the ridge.
The snipers' thermal optics were blinded by the sudden wall of roaring heat.
Nathan grabbed Arthur by the collar of his coat, hauling his father to his feet. "Can you run, Dad?"
"I can limp fast enough to kill that bastard!" Arthur snarled, his eyes blazing with fury.
"To the barn! Go!" Nathan shoved Clara, Toby, and Arthur toward the rear path leading to the heavy timber barn, while he provided covering fire through the billowing smoke.
Sterling crawled out of the smoke on his hands and knees, coughing and screaming into his lapel radio: "Kill them all! Level the entire compound! Blow the fuel tanks!"
Nathan didn't run toward the barn. He circled through the perimeter smoke, moving like a predator through his home terrain. He picked up Sterling’s discarded silver walking cane.
The weight was wrong. It was too heavy for solid wood or aluminum. Nathan twisted the dragon’s-head pommel with a sharp click.
The hollow shaft slid off, revealing a twelve-inch blade of surgical Damascus steel, along with a hidden compartment containing an encrypted satellite transponder beacon—the real tracking hub Sterling was using to coordinate his offshore private military contractor teams.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps pounded through the burning clearing. A massive operative in full body armor burst through the wall of smoke, leveling a combat shotgun straight at Nathan's chest.
Nathan lunged forward, driving the concealed cane blade directly through the unarmored joint of the operative's neck before the man could squeeze the trigger. The mercenary collapsed into the burning grass with a choked gasp.
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Nathan ripped the radio headset from the dead man's helmet and shoved the earpiece into his ear.
A voice cut through the static, cold and unmistakable: "Sterling, this is Sloane. Federal tactical gunships are six minutes out. Eliminate the witnesses and secure the ledger, or I will authorize an airstrike to incinerate the entire mountain."
