Chapter 5 - COUNTER OFFENSIVE
In the narrow, concrete hallway leading to the control room, three tactical contractors moved in a tight wedge formation. Their silenced weapons were raised, night-vision goggles glowing green in the dim halogen light.
"Target is locked in the central vault," the team leader whispered into his headset. "General Vance, we have them pinned. Request permission to terminate both targets and deploy thermite to destroy the server."
Over the radio, a heavy, authoritative voice responded—General Thomas Vance himself. "Negative on destroying the server until you confirm the master drive is secured. Kill the women, secure the drive, then burn the facility."
"Understood, General."
The lead contractor reached the heavy blast door of the control room. He signaled his men to set a breaching charge.
Inside the room, Olivia stood behind the heavy reinforced glass panel, wearing a black oxygen mask. She held her hand over the manual lever for the Halon gas system.
"Do it," Margaret whispered from behind the door frame, gun trained on the entry point.
The contractor slapped the C4 charge onto the door frame and pressed the detonator.
BOOM!
The steel door blew inward, hinges snapping like twigs. Smoke billowed into the room.
The three contractors rushed through the breach, guns raised.
"NOW!" Margaret shouted.
Olivia slammed the heavy red lever downward.
With a deafening hiss, high-pressure pipes along the ceiling ruptured, flooding the entire corridor and vault with thick, invisible Halon 1301 gas.
Halon gas doesn't poison a room; it displaces oxygen instantly. Within three seconds, the oxygen level in the room dropped to zero.
The contractors immediately began to gasp. Their night-vision scopes proved useless as the sudden pressure drop fogged up their goggles. They dropped their weapons, clawing at their throats as their lungs were instantly starved of air.
One of the contractors tried to raise his sidearm, but Margaret stepped from the shadows and fired two quick shots, disarming him. Within twenty seconds, all three contractors collapsed onto the concrete floor, unconscious from oxygen deprivation.
Olivia immediately hit the ventilation exhaust switch, clearing the gas from the room and pulling fresh air down through the intake valves.
Margaret walked over to the unconscious team leader, pulled off his headset, and put it on.
"General Vance," Margaret spoke into the microphone, her voice dripping with ice.
There was a pause on the line. Then a deep, rough chuckle came through the earpiece.
"Margaret... I should have known a fire wouldn't be enough to kill Victoria's top officer."
"Your men are down, Thomas," Margaret said. "We have the files. We have your wire transfer logs. We have the proof that you murdered my husband."
"You have files, Margaret," Vance replied calmly. "But I have the entire Boston Police Department, the State Trooper network, and the media. Right now, the local news is broadcasting a live story: 'Pregnant wife of decorated Army Major sets fire to family home in psychotic episode.' By the time you climb out of that hole, you'll be hunted as domestic terrorists."
"You think you control the narrative?" Olivia shouted into the mic, leaning close to her mother.
"Ah, little Olivia," Vance sneered. "You were always so fragile. You really should have stayed in line. Your husband is currently being transferred to a secure military holding facility under my direct command. The evidence you gave the police? Already intercepted and marked as 'classified military intelligence.' It’s over."
"It's not over, General," Olivia said softly. "You forgot one thing."
"And what is that?"
"I didn't just record Ethan," Olivia revealed, a cold laugh escaping her lips. "The old cell phone under my mattress was live-streaming to a cloud server managed by the Department of Justice's Witness Protection Program. The Director of the FBI has been watching this entire night in real-time."
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Silence fell over the radio line.
Vance’s calm demeanor instantly shattered. "What did you say?!"
