Chapter 7
The smell of burning metal filled the master study as the cutting torch sliced through the heavy brass deadbolt with a harsh, whining screech. Elena stood motionless in the dim light near the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, her weapon raised and leveled at the center of the doorway.
With a deafening crash, the heavy oak door kicked inward, splintering off its remaining hinges. The lead mercenary stepped through the smoke, his assault rifle raised, scanning the room with cold, calculating eyes. Behind him, his surviving partner crept in, sweeping the corners.
"She’s in here. Find the safe," the leader growled, motioning toward the art deco painting that concealed wall safe behind the desk.
As the second operative took three steps toward the desk, Elena didn't shoot. Instead, she triggered a small remote switch in her left hand. High above their heads, the vintage smart-home HVAC vents hissed loudly, releasing a dense, blinding cloud of non-toxic military-grade smoke powder directly into the room.
"Smoke!" the operative yelled, dropping his weapon’s muzzle as visibility plummeted to zero.
In the sudden, blinding haze, Elena moved like a ghost. She dropped low to the floor, sliding beneath the oak table, and swept her legs out hard, catching the second mercenary behind the knees. He crashed down heavily, his rifle clattering across the hardwood. Before he could recover, Elena brought the heavy butt of her Glock down against the side of his helmet, rendering him instantly unconscious.
The leader spun around wildly, firing blind bursts into the empty air, the muzzle flashes illuminating his terrified expression. "Show yourself, you bitch!"
"You're out of your depth, soldier," Elena’s voice echoed softly from the darkness near the balcony windows.
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He whipped his rifle toward the sound and fired three rounds, shattering the glass panes. As he stepped forward to check the open window, Elena stepped out from behind the heavy velvet drapes directly behind him. With a swift, brutal strike, she slammed the heavy butt of her pistol against the back of his neck. He went down like a felled tree, unconscious before he hit the floor.
Panting softly, Elena lowered her weapon and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. She looked out the broken window. Down the long gravel drive, two unmarked armored vehicles were racing up the hill, their sirens silent but their high-beams cutting through the grey morning fog. The Swiss security team had arrived.
