Chapter 14 - The Homefront Siege
I slammed my fist onto the steel console, the metal rattling under the force of the blow. “Communications!” I barked, spinning away from the microphone. “Patch me through to Agent Vance at NCIS headquarters in Washington immediately!” “Admiral, we are four thousand feet underwater,” the officer replied frantically. “We have to deploy a surface buoy to establish a satellite link.” “Do it!” I roared, the calm, collected facade I usually maintained finally cracking. “Deploy the buoy and get me that line right now!” Nathan was already moving, his hands flying over the weapons console, arming the submarine’s torpedo tubes. It took ninety agonizing seconds for the satellite link to connect. Agent Vance’s voice came through the speaker, crisp and alert. “Admiral Hart, what is your status?” “Vance, you need to scramble a tactical rapid response unit to my family’s residence right this second,” I ordered rapidly. “A rogue strike team is moving on the house to secure a backup drive from my father’s computer.” There was a fraction of a second of silence on the line. “Admiral, the house is supposed to be clear,” Vance said. “I only left two junior agents on detail out there to monitor the crime scene tape.” “They are going to die if you don't reinforce them, Vance!” I yelled. Back at the house, the scene I imagined was playing out exactly as I feared, but with a twist I never could have predicted. My father, Arthur Hart, was sitting in his armchair when the front door imploded. Four heavily armed mercenaries in tactical black gear stormed into the foyer, dropping the two junior NCIS agents with non-lethal stun rounds before they could even draw their weapons. My mother screamed, diving behind the kitchen counter. Caroline, who had been sitting on the couch wrapped in a blanket, froze in pure terror. The lead mercenary marched straight up to my father and grabbed him by the collar of his sweater. “Where is the computer, old man?” the mercenary demanded, pressing the barrel of a suppressed rifle against Dad’s chest. For his entire life, Arthur Hart had been an arrogant, dismissive man who thought he knew everything about the world. But staring down the barrel of a gun, the arrogance finally shattered completely, replaced by a sudden, desperate surge of protective instinct. Dad looked over at Caroline, who was trembling violently. “I don't know what you’re talking about,” Dad lied, his voice shaking but surprisingly defiant. “Check the study upstairs,” the mercenary ordered his men. Caroline suddenly stood up, her face pale but her jaw set with an unexpected resolve. “The computer isn't upstairs,” Caroline said loudly, drawing the mercenaries' attention away from our father. “I have the drive you want.” “Julian told me about the backup.”
