Chapter 5 - The Trap at Bay 4
The hiss of toxic halon gas spraying from the fire-suppression vents filled the pitch-black room. Victoria had sealed the emergency exits from the building’s security control center, turning the morgue into an airtight tomb.
“Masks, now!” Marcus yelled, pulling a compact respirator from his tactical vest and shoving a spare into Julian’s hand. Julian slammed the rubber seal over his face, breathing in compressed oxygen as the white gas poured from the ceiling, displacing the air in seconds.
Julian drew his pistol, using the weapon’s mounted flashlight to illuminate the room. The steel exit doors were magnetically locked, rated to withstand explosive breaches. “The freight elevator shaft,” Julian said through the respirator’s comm-link, pointing his light toward the rear utility hatch where bodies were brought in from the loading dock.
Marcus fired three heavy rounds directly into the lock mechanism of the hatch, kicking the steel grate open. They scrambled into the narrow service conduit just as a pair of stun grenades detonated inside the morgue behind them, blowing the remaining glass vials into shrapnel.
Emerging into the dark alley behind the medical center, Julian spotted a black SUV idling near the service gate, headlights off. Two mercenaries clad in tactical gear stepped out, assault rifles raised. Julian didn’t wait for them to aim. Moving with savage precision, he fired twice through the windshield, then closed the distance, tackling the second operative into the wet asphalt.
He jammed his pistol beneath the man’s chin. “Who ordered the extraction of the woman from the dock warehouse?”
The mercenary choked on his own blood, glaring defiantly until Julian twisted his broken arm behind his back. “Senator… Senator Sterling’s private airstrip,” the man gasped in agony. “Flight leaves… at midnight. For a private clinic in Panama.”
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Julian checked his watch. It was 11:14 PM. Forty-six minutes.
He looked up at Marcus. “Get the Foundry ready. We take the airstrip.”
