Chapter 17 - Fire and Ice
The rocket impacted the elevator shaft just above their car, ripping through the concrete and sending a shower of burning debris raining down on them. The elevator cables groaned, snapped, and the car plummeted violently into the darkness.
Danielle braced herself against the wall, wrapping her body entirely around Liam as they fell. The emergency brakes shrieked like dying animals, finally catching and slamming the car to a brutal, bone-jarring halt between floors.
"Sarah!" Danielle choked out, waving away the thick, metallic smoke.
The older scientist was slumped against the shattered mirror of the elevator, a massive piece of shrapnel embedded deep in her abdomen. Blood pooled rapidly on the metal floor.
"Go," Sarah coughed, blood bubbling at the corner of her lips. She weakly pointed to the emergency escape hatch in the roof of the car. "The helipad... is just above. Leave me."
"I'm not leaving another person to die for me today," Danielle cried, tears cutting tracks through the soot on her face.
"You have to," Sarah smiled softly, a look of profound peace washing over her pale features. "I failed the first Ethan. I won't fail Liam. Save your son, Danielle. Run."
Knowing the scientist was right, Danielle forced herself to turn away. She climbed the shattered interior paneling, pushing open the roof hatch and dragging herself and Liam out of the ruined car.
She crawled through the freezing, pitch-black maintenance shaft, her muscles burning with exhaustion until she finally kicked open a grate and tumbled out onto the frozen, wind-swept surface of the sub-level helipad.
The storm was absolutely blinding. Snow whipped violently across the concrete pad. Danielle's private stealth helicopter sat waiting, its rotors already slowly spinning on a pre-programmed emergency idle.
But standing between her and the aircraft was the Syndicate Director.
He was a tall, imposing Russian man wrapped in a heavy wolf-fur coat, holding a massive silver revolver. Behind him stood two heavily armed guards.
"Mrs. Whitaker," the Director yelled over the howling wind, his accent thick and aristocratic. "You have fought valiantly. But the game is over. Hand over the child, and I will grant you a quick death."
Danielle raised her empty pistol, realizing she had dropped her spare magazines in the elevator. She was completely out of ammunition. She backed away toward the edge of the helipad, staring down at the thousand-foot drop into the icy abyss below.
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Before the Director could raise his weapon, a deafening gunshot echoed from the stairwell behind him.
The Director's right guard dropped dead, a massive hole blown through his helmet. Out of the shadows emerged Julian, covered head-to-toe in blood, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side, but his eyes burning with an unholy, unstoppable fury.
