Chapter 12: Turning the Tables
The heavy wooden front door shuddered violently as a booted foot slammed against the deadbolt, splintering the aged frame with a loud crack. Before the intruders could force their way completely inside, Arthur hurled the heavy wooden stool straight through the glass pane of the side window, creating a loud crash and a diversion that instantly redirected the attention of the men outside.
Mark capitalized on the momentary confusion. As the primary intruder stumbled backward off the porch in response to the crashing window, Mark threw open the damaged front door and lunged forward, swinging the iron poker with absolute conviction. He struck the surprised operative squarely across the shoulder, sending the man sprawling onto the gravel path. A second operative stepped out from the shadows near the porch, reaching for a tactical holster at his hip, but Arthur was already moving. With surprising speed for his age, Arthur tackled the second man around the waist, bringing them both crashing down into the damp underbrush.
“Get back inside!” Mark yelled over the scuffle, turning his attention to Elena, who stood by the fireplace ready to defend herself with a heavy cast-iron skillet.
“I’m not leaving you!” Elena shouted back, her voice ringing with adrenaline and fierce defiance.
The first operative groaned, rolling away from Mark’s second strike and scrambling backward on the gravel. He realized the element of surprise was lost, and the noise of the struggle in the quiet wilderness would soon attract unwanted attention from the local county sheriff, remote though they were. He flashed a cold, assessing glare at Mark before pulling a small encrypted comms device from his tactical vest.
“This isn’t over, Vance,” the operative growled, pressing a button on the device before scrambling to his feet and retreating rapidly into the dark tree line toward a waiting vehicle.
A few yards away, Arthur struggled to pin the second operative, but the younger man easily overpowered him, shoving the older man backward onto the grass before sprinting off into the woods to follow his companion. Within seconds, the frantic sounds of crashing brush faded into the distance, replaced once again by the quiet rustle of pine needles in the wind.
Mark stood panting in the center of the clearing, the iron poker still gripped tightly in his trembling hand. He dropped the weapon slowly, letting it clatter against the gravel, and rushed back toward the porch where Arthur was struggling to regain his footing. Mark reached down, grabbing his father-in-law’s arm and pulling him up firmly.
“Are you alright?” Mark asked anxiously, scanning Arthur for injuries.
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“I’m fine, just bruised pride,” Arthur breathed heavily, dusting off his jacket with a shaky hand. He looked toward the dark treeline where their attackers had vanished. “They’ll be back, Mark. But more importantly, they know we didn't have the physical files with us. They think we left them back at the suburban house.”
Elena stepped out onto the porch, clutching her belly as she looked at the two men. “Then we have the advantage,” she said firmly, her voice steady and clear. “They’ll go back to the house to search for the ledger. That gives us the time we need to settle this permanently.”
