Chapter 10 - The Price of Treason
The stone walls of the lighthouse shuddered as a massive explosion ripped through the base of the tower.
Flames surged up the central spiral staircase, cutting off the only exit. Thick, suffocating smoke poured into the room, choking out the remaining oxygen. Outside, the searchlight of a military-grade chopper cut through the rain, hovering thirty yards from the lighthouse observation deck.
""Julian!"" Mark shouted, grabbing Clara by the arm and dragging her toward the fire escape balcony facing the open ocean. ""He tracked my truck's GPS!""
""Mark, my brother!"" Clara screamed, coughing through the smoke. ""Where is Frank? Where is Detective Vance?""
Mark didn't have the heart to tell her that Frank Vance was in a coma at an undisclosed trauma center, fighting for every breath. ""He’s safe. We have to move now!""
They burst through the heavy glass doors onto the exterior iron platform. The wind hit them like a solid wall of ice. Below them, eighty feet down, the Atlantic Ocean churned against the jagged black rocks, foam boiling like a cauldron.
Above them, the helicopter lowered its altitude. Through the rain-streaked windshield, Mark could see Julian sitting in the co-pilot seat, holding a radio transceiver.
Julian’s voice boomed through the helicopter's external PA system: ""Hand her over, Mark! Clara is the only loose end connecting me to the surrogate contract and the clinic! Give her to me, and I’ll let you walk away with your worthless life!""
""You took everything from her!"" Mark yelled back into the howling gale, raising his pistol and emptying the magazine into the chopper’s searchlight.
The high-intensity bulb shattered in a shower of sparks, blinding the pilot temporarily. The chopper banked sharply to avoid clipping the lighthouse dome.
""Elena!"" Mark shouted to the maid, who had followed them onto the platform. ""The emergency winch on the seawall! Pull the release lever!""
Elena sprinted to the rusted mechanism bolted to the granite cliffside. It was an old maritime rescue basket, rigged with heavy steel cables that led down to an emergency sea-dock where Mark had arranged an offshore smuggler's boat.
Elena slammed her weight against the iron release bar. The rusted gears groaned, sparks flying, and the steel cable unspooled rapidly into the darkness.
""Get in!"" Mark ordered Clara, shoving her toward the basket.
Just as Clara stepped in, the helicopter swung back around. A mercenary leaned out of the open side door with an assault rifle, tracking Clara’s chest.
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Mark didn't think. He threw his own body across the opening, shielding Clara with his torso just as the rifle roared.
Two heavy impacts slammed into Mark’s back, driving the breath from his lungs and sending him crashing over the iron railing into the abyss below.
