Chapter 6 - The Siege at Martha’s House
The red LED light on the kitchen monitor glowed ominously, casting a crimson hue across the linoleum floor. Daniel pulled Elena down into a crouch, his heart hammering against his ribs as he peered at the grainy infrared feed. Two men in dark suits and tactical vests were moving up the front steps, their movements efficient and devoid of hesitation. They weren't patrol officers; they were private contractors, clean-up crew for Marcus Vance.
"They tracked your phone, didn't they?" Daniel whispered, glaring down at Elena.
"I didn't use my phone," she choked out, pressing her back against the hallway wall. "I threw it in a dumpster two blocks away from the precinct."
"They didn't track your phone. They tracked your car, or the taxi you took," Daniel corrected himself, already mentally cataloging the exits. "Martha’s house has a rear basement exit that leads directly into the alley behind the detached garage. Can you run?"
Elena nodded frantically, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "Yes. Yes, I can."
"Take Sophie," Daniel commanded, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative register. "Carry her through the basement. Go straight to the old precinct annex on Fourth Street. Tell the desk sergeant to contact Captain Thomas directly and give him the pass-code 'Delta-Nine.' Do you understand?"
"What about you?" Elena asked, her eyes widening in sudden panic as she grabbed his wrist. "Daniel, you can't take them both on alone. They're armed professionals."
"I'm a police officer, Elena. This is my job," Daniel said coldly, pulling his wrist free. "Now move."
He slipped into the living room, gently lifting Sophie from the sofa. The little girl stirred, murmuring sleepily, but didn't cry as Elena scooped her into her arms, whispering urgent reassurances. Ducking low, Elena sprinted toward the rear kitchen hallway leading to the basement stairs.
Daniel turned back toward the front entry just as the brass doorknob began to turn. The deadbolt held firm against the initial twist, followed immediately by the deafening crack of a heavy-duty battering ram striking the wood just above the lock. The frame splintered, sending shards of oak flying across the foyer.
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The door swung inward, and the first operative stepped through, raising a suppressed carbine. Daniel didn't hesitate. He dropped to one knee, bringing his service weapon up, and fired twice through the drywall just as the intruder opened fire. Plaster rained down in a blinding cloud of white dust as returning rounds chewed through the hallway wall, missing Daniel’s head by inches.
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