Chapter 10 - Descent from the Storm
The sky above the city churned with black storm clouds as the twin-rotor heavy helicopter cut through the rain, flying low beneath the radar ceiling between the downtown skyscrapers. Below them, the metropolitan district was plunged into complete darkness, save for the flashing red emergency beacons atop the tallest structures.
Viktor stood at the open side door of the chopper, the freezing wind whipping his wet hair across his face. He wore a tactical vest over his ruined shirt, loaded with breaching charges and extra magazines. Beside him, Marcus and eight veteran operators hooked their carabiners onto the fast-rope system.
""Thirty seconds to drop!"" the crew chief yelled over the deafening roar of the rotors.
Through the rain, the flat gravel roof of the Central District Courthouse came into view. As predicted, the emergency generators had kicked in, bathing the rooftop helipad in pale yellow floodlights. Four armed mercenaries in combat gear were scanning the perimeter, their weapons raised, expecting a threat from the stairwells below. They never looked up until the downdraft of the massive helicopter scattered the standing water on the tarmac into a violent spray.
""Go!"" Viktor roared.
He slid down the rope, hitting the wet gravel with a heavy, controlled impact. Before the first mercenary could swing his rifle around, Viktor fired two rounds from his sidearm, dropping the man instantly. Marcus and the others landed immediately behind him, unleashing a synchronized volley of suppressed fire that cleared the rooftop in less than five seconds.
Viktor approached the roof access door, a reinforced steel barrier secured with a heavy magnetic lock. ""Breaching charge,"" he ordered.
One of his men slapped a linear shaped charge across the hinges. Viktor stepped back, raised his weapon, and covered his face.
Boom.
The explosion was a contained thud, ripping the steel door from its frame in a cloud of smoke and sparks. Viktor kicked the warped metal inward and plunged down the service stairwell, leading his men straight into the belly of the beast.
Two levels below, an alarm was blaring an ear-splitting klaxon. Through the emergency red lighting of the executive judicial offices, Viktor caught sight of a figure running down the long marble corridor: Sofia, clutching a silver metal briefcase to her chest, flanked by four Blackwood contractors.
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""Sofia!"" Viktor’s roar echoed through the empty marble halls like thunder.
She looked back over her shoulder, her face draining of color, before her guards spun around and opened fire with automatic submachine guns.
