Chapter 13 - The Siege of the Carriage House
The deafening roar of automatic gunfire shattered the heavy glass windows of the carriage house, sending shards raining down across the hardwood floor. Genevieve dropped flat against the floorboards, pulling herself behind a heavy oak writing desk as bullets thudded rhythmically into the thick wood.
Outside, Marcus returned fire with disciplined, measured bursts, keeping the advancing mercenaries pinned behind the armored grill of their all-terrain vehicle. But he was severely outgunned. A stream of suppressive fire forced him to duck lower behind the engine block as a smoke grenade landed dangerously close to his position, filling the air with acrid, blinding white fog.
"Marcus! Fall back to the cellar entrance!" Chris Berlinsky shouted, firing two precise rounds through the broken window frame before ducking beneath the heavy oak sill.
Marcus scrambled backward through the side door, diving into the carriage house just as a second smoke canister smashed through the front window, filling the main room with choking gray fumes.
"They're deploying thermal optics!" Marcus coughed, wiping soot from his face as he slammed the heavy iron cellar bolt shut behind him. "We have less than two minutes before they breach the reinforced doors!"
Genevieve didn't panic. Her mind was operating with chilling, crystal-clear focus. She crawled toward the massive stone fireplace, sliding her fingers along a decorative iron bracket shaped like a falcon’s head. With a firm downward tug, a hidden floor hatch sprang open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing a subterranean escape tunnel leading directly down toward the riverbank half a mile away.
"The escape route," Genevieve said, coughing slightly from the smoke. "Dad, take the ledger and go. They're here for me and the vault keys."
Chris grabbed her arm, his grip fierce and unyielding. "Never, Gen. We finish this together, or not at all. Marcus, rig the propane lines to the main stove."
Marcus grinned grimly, pulling a roll of electrical tape and a detonator switch from his tactical belt. "My pleasure."
Within thirty seconds, the makeshift explosive trap was set. Chris, Genevieve, and Marcus slipped down into the damp stone tunnel just as the heavy front oak doors of the carriage house splintered inward under the force of a hydraulic breaching ram.
Heavy tactical boots thudded across the floorboards upstairs as the mercenaries poured into the smoke-filled room, shouting clear-room commands.
Marcus pressed the detonator switch in his palm.
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A muffled, concussive boom shook the earth beneath their feet, followed instantly by a massive tongue of orange flame that engulfed the entire carriage house in a wall of fire, cutting off the mercenaries' advance and sealing the tunnel entrance in a shower of falling rubble.
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