Chapter 7 - The Mountain Breach
The damp air inside the abandoned Cold War tunnel tasted of sulfur and decaying limestone. Gabriel pushed the customized electric utility cart through the darkness, its wheels gliding almost silently along the narrow-gauge rails. Elena sat behind him, holding a tactical submachine gun across her knees, her senses hyper-alert. Above them, miles of solid earth separated them from the storm raging over the mountains.
Two miles ahead, Leo’s diversion was working flawlessly. The tactical radio in Gabriel’s earpiece crackled with intermittent police chatter: state troopers and three pursuit helicopters were currently swarming a rural highway fifty miles to the west, chasing the ghost beacon Leo had deployed.
"Commander," Leo’s static-laced voice came through the comms. "Highway patrol has swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. But Ricardo’s private birds just took off from the private executive helipad in the city. Two black executive choppers heading north-northwest toward Crestview Peak. ETA twenty-five minutes."
"Understood," Gabriel whispered into his collar mic. "Hold your perimeter and extract when safe."
Gabriel brought the cart to a halt. In front of them was an iron maintenance hatch, thick with layers of peeling rust. Beyond this grate lay the sub-basement drainage network of Saint Michael’s Orphanage.
Gabriel produced a specialized hydraulic wedge tool, inserting it into the seam of the heavy grate. With a low, groaning screech of metal, the lock sheared off. Gabriel caught the heavy grate before it hit the concrete, setting it aside without making a sound.
He climbed up first, weapon raised, scanning the dim, sterile corridor of the basement with night-vision optics. Pipes hissed with hot steam along the ceiling. The air smelled of industrial bleach and wet laundry.
"Clear," he whispered, turning to hoist Elena up into the hallway.
They moved with practiced military precision through the labyrinthine lower corridors. Gabriel knew the floor plan by heart. The upper levels housed legitimate orphan children and staff, kept completely unaware of the high-security VIP wing situated behind the reinforced steel fire doors in the east annex.
Reaching the heavy security door leading to the VIP nursery, Gabriel observed two armed guards in black tactical gear stationed outside. Both carried automatic shotguns, smoking cigarettes under a flickering fluorescent light.
Gabriel gestured to Elena to stay in the shadow of the doorway. He slipped from the cover like a wraith.
Before the first guard could even turn his head, Gabriel lunged from the blind spot, striking the man’s carotid artery with the edge of his combat blade’s hilt. The guard crumpled instantly without a gasp. The second guard gasped, fumbling for his sling, but Gabriel grabbed the barrel of the shotgun, twisting it brutally downward to dislocate the man’s fingers, before delivering a crushing palm strike to his chin. The second man collapsed into Gabriel’s arms, unconscious.
Gabriel stripped the security master keycard from the guard’s belt and swiped it through the electronic scanner. The heavy magnetic lock clicked open with a soft, ominous beep.
Gabriel pushed the door open, stepping into a carpeted, warmly lit room that smelled of baby powder and fresh lavender. In the center of the room sat a white wooden crib.
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Elena rushed past Gabriel, her breath hitching in her throat. She looked down through the wooden slats.
Sleeping peacefully beneath a soft blue blanket was an eight-month-old baby boy, with a tuft of messy dark hair that mirrored Gabriel’s own.
