Chapter 7 - The Counter-Ambush
BANG-FLASH!
The shockwave blew out the ambient lights inside L’Hiver, plunging the elegant dining room into a terrifying darkness broken only by the flickering green emergency lights.
Two mercenaries clad in black tactical gear and night-vision goggles burst through the kitchen doors, their submachine guns raised, sweeping the room.
"Clear left!" one barked in French.
Before he could complete his sweep, Julian stepped out from behind a heavy mahogany pillar.
PUB! PUB!
Julian fired twice. The first round struck the lead mercenary in the chest plate, staggering him; the second round caught him cleanly under the helmet line. The man dropped instantly to the marble floor like a sack of wet concrete.
The second mercenary spun his weapon toward Julian, but Marcus Vance—having returned from securing the guests in the basement—flanked him from the side. Marcus drove a heavy steel serving tray into the mercenary's neck, followed by a point-blank shot from his service pistol.
"Kitchen is clear for now!" Marcus panted, wiping grease and sweat from his face. "But Cole’s main team is breaching the front steel shutter with a thermal lance!"
Outside the front entrance, a blinding shower of golden sparks began to erupt through the steel shutter as a cutting torch ate through the heavy locking bolts.
"Julian!" Guzman called out. "Take the girls into the wine cellar with Marcus!"
"What about you?" Julian shouted over the hiss of the cutting torch.
May you like
Guzman set his youngest granddaughter down, placing her small hand into her older sister’s grip. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, sleek black remote control unit.
"This restaurant belongs to me, Sterling," Guzman said with a dark, terrifying smile. "I bought it ten years ago specifically as a safehouse. Every wall in this room is lined with fire-suppression gas vents."
