Chapter 13 - Blood in the Shadows
The gunfire paused momentarily as the tactical team reloaded, their heavy combat boots crunching softly on the concrete floor as they flanked my position.
I calculated the angles, the echoes, and the narrow escape routes of the slaughterhouse in a fraction of a second.
I reached into my tactical vest and pulled out a high-intensity flashbang grenade.
I pulled the pin, counted to two, and rolled it smoothly across the wet floor toward the center of the kill zone.
The explosive concussive blast shattered the darkness, blinding the shooters and filling the warehouse with a thick, acrid cloud of white smoke.
I broke from my cover immediately, moving low and fast.
I double-tapped the nearest operative in the chest, the specialized armor-piercing rounds from my weapon dropping him instantly.
I fluidly transitioned to the second target, who was blindly firing his submachine gun into the smoke.
I closed the distance, swept his leg, and drove the heavy steel butt of my pistol into his temple.
He collapsed in a heap of Kevlar and tactical webbing.
The third shooter was an elite professional.
He had completely avoided the flashbang's blast radius and was now tracking my movements through the smoke with a thermal optic rifle.
A bullet grazed my shoulder, tearing through my jacket and biting deeply into the flesh.
I ignored the searing pain and vaulted over a rusted conveyor belt, breaking his line of sight.
I needed a distraction to level the playing field.
I grabbed a heavy iron chain hanging from a ceiling winch and violently whipped it against a row of empty steel barrels.
As the deafening clang echoed through the room, the shooter instinctively fired toward the sound.
I flanked him from the left, dropping low to the ground.
I fired two rapid shots, hitting him cleanly in the knee and the dominant shoulder.
He dropped his rifle and fell back against the brick wall, gasping in agony.
I kicked his weapon away and pressed the steaming barrel of my pistol directly against his forehead.
He glared up at me, his eyes filled with absolute defiance.
I demanded to know who had hired them and how they knew I was in Berlin.
He coughed up a mixture of blood and saliva, offering a dark, mocking laugh.
He whispered in broken English that I was chasing a ghost, and that Commander Carter was already a dead woman walking.
He reached quickly for a secondary blade hidden in his boot, forcing me to put a final bullet through his chest to end the threat.
I quickly searched his tactical rig and found a secure satellite phone.
The last dialed number was routed through a highly encrypted server located in a defunct mining town deep in the Siberian tundra.
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I wrapped a compression bandage tightly around my bleeding shoulder, retrieved my bag, and slipped out into the cold Berlin rain.
The trail was soaked in blood, but it was pointing directly toward the frozen wasteland where Lewis was waiting.
