“WE HAVE ELEVEN MINUTES BEFORE THE ZURICH CHANCERY REGISTRY LOCKS! ONCE THE SHAFT COLLAPSES, DAMON MERCER WON'T HAVE A PHYSICAL REDOUBT LEFT TO INHERIT!”
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“FLARE AND BREACH!” Admiral Mercer roared through the vehicle intercom.
Our lead armored BearCat did not touch the brakes.
It accelerated straight through the ruined timber stanchions at forty-five miles per hour!
KABOOOOM.
CRASH-ROAR-SHATTER.
The industrial security barriers were obliterated inward, sheared off at their concrete footings, sending steel pipes and warning signs tumbling across the wet tarmac!
The four tactical vehicles slid to an aggressive, synchronized halt in a semi-circle around the pumphouse, their forty-thousand-lumen searchlights pinning Arthur Sterling-Vance and his contractors in blinding, incandescent daylight!
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The side doors of the BearCats flew open: SHHH-CLANK.
Pouring out onto the wet asphalt in fluid, synchronized mechanical velocity...
Came twelve operators from DEVGRU Red Squadron!
Across their chests hung suppressed SIG Sauer MCX Rattlers, their weapon-mounted PEQ-15 infrared lasers cutting through the drilling slurry in twelve razor-sharp needles of incandescent crimson light!
