Chapter 13: The Final Stand
“They’re cutting through,” Julian said, his eyes widening with urgency. He grabbed the gold ring from Richard’s hand, slammed it into a specialized adapter port on the side of the vintage computer terminal, and hit a heavy red execution switch.
BZZZZT.
The amber monitor flickered violently, turning a brilliant, blinding green as columns of raw data began scrolling down the screen at supersonic speed.
Upload in progress… 15%… 30%… 50%…
From the top of the stairwell, the sound of the heavy steel hatch giving way was accompanied by a loud, explosive bang as the operatives blew the remaining locking mechanisms. Smoke and the blinding white glare of tactical flashlights poured down the concrete steps.
“Get back! Get behind the generator!” Richard yelled, shoving Elena and Clara into the deep corner behind the heavy diesel backup generator, using his own body as a shield.
Julian stood firmly in front of the computer terminal, his hand resting on the manual override switch, his eyes locked on the amber-glowing progress bar on the screen.
75%… 85%… 95%…
The first tactical operative crested the bottom of the stairs, weapon raised, scanning the room. Seeing Julian standing by the console, the operative immediately raised his rifle, aiming directly at his chest.
“Step away from the terminal!” the operative barked, his voice distorted by his tactical comms unit.
Julian didn’t flinch. A bitter, victorious smile touched the corners of his mouth. He looked up at the mercenary, then glanced at the monitor.
100% — UPLOAD COMPLETE.
“You’re too late,” Julian said softly.
The operative fired.
A muffled thud echoed through the underground bunker. Julian stumbled backward, clutching his chest as blood bloomed across the front of his shirt, and collapsed hard onto the concrete floor beside the desk.
“JULIAN!” Richard screamed, lunging forward from behind the generator, ignoring the danger, his voice cracking with sheer agony.
Before the operative could redirect his weapon toward Richard, a calm, chilling voice echoed from the top of the stairs.
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“Hold your fire.”
Beatrice Sterling stepped down the concrete steps, her grey trench coat pristine despite the dust and smoke. She walked past the armed operatives, her eyes immediately fixing on the glowing green monitor displaying the successful data transfer notification.
