Chapter 73 - The Bloodline Ledger
The reinforced doors on the conservatory's west wing blew open. Four private security operatives clad in carbon-composite body armor and night-vision optics surged into the glass rotunda, their submachine guns coming up to sweep the room.
"Mason, DROP IT!" Daniel screamed.
Mason flicked his wrist. The silver lighter sailed through the air, spinning end-over-end, its tiny flame catching the light before landing directly into the pool of ruptured ethanol fuel leaking from the backup dialysis generator Daniel had clipped on his entry.
*WHOOSH.*
A wall of orange fire erupted between the security team and the glass platform, throwing a blistering wave of heat across the marble floor.
Daniel moved with predatory instinct honed by a decade of black-ops deployments. He dropped to one knee, the carbine bucking against his shoulder. Three controlled double-taps echoed through the roaring flames. The first two operatives collapsed instantly, their armor shattered by armor-piercing rounds.
"Arthur! Get him to the pod!" Emily screamed over the thunder of gunfire, lunging behind the bank of medical telemetry as glass shattered around her.
Arthur was already hitting a red override toggle on his armrest. The entire dialysis rig, mounted on pneumatic tracks, began retracting backward into an armored elevator shaft concealed behind the mahogany wall panels.
"You cannot kill the bloodline, Daniel!" the old man wheezed, his face twisted into a demonic grimace as the pneumatic doors began to slide shut. "The Syndicate spans twelve nations! Even if you burn this rock, they will hunt you to the edge of the grave!"
"I'll meet them there," Daniel roared, emptying the rest of his magazine into the elevator’s armored glass viewports, spiderwebbing the reinforced polymer before the hydraulic locks engaged with a deafening *clack*.
"Daniel, watch out!" Mason’s high-pitched cry pierced the smoke.
Daniel spun on his heel. A third operative had flanked the fire line, his weapon raised, aiming point-blank at the boy. There was no time to reload. Daniel launched his body across the slick marble floor, throwing himself between the muzzle and his child just as the operative fired.
Two heavy rounds slammed into the ceramic plate over Daniel’s ribs. The kinetic impact felt like being struck by a sledgehammer, fracturing bone beneath the vest and stealing all the oxygen from his lungs. Daniel crashed into the floor, skidding across the broken glass, but his forward momentum carried his tactical blade out of its sheath. In one fluid, desperate arc, he swept the blade across the guard's unarmored femoral artery.
The operative collapsed with a gurgling shriek, clutching his leg as blood painted the white marble.
Through the curtain of rising black smoke, Daniel saw Emily. She was standing at the threshold of the northern egress, holding a sleek pneumatic tranquilizer rifle aimed at Mason.
"He belongs to the future, Daniel!" she shouted, her hair wild, her white coat singed by embers. "You're a relic! An obsolete soldier clinging to a dead family!"
Daniel struggled to his feet, coughing up blood, his cracked ribs screaming in agony. He raised his empty pistol, aiming it square at her chest. "Run, Emily. Run before I forget you ever carried him."
Emily looked at the weapon, then at the fire spreading toward the primary oxygen tanks lining the ceiling. A flicker of cold survival instinct won over her scientific obsession. "This island is surrounded by the Atlantic, Daniel. You have nowhere to go. And Mason’s transponder is already active."
With a swirl of her silk coat, she vanished down the spiraling stone stairs leading to the fortress catacombs.
"Daddy!" Mason ran to Daniel, wrapping his tiny arms around his father’s blood-spattered tactical vest.
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Daniel dropped the empty gun, pulled his son against his chest, and felt the boy’s heart hammering like a trapped bird. "I’ve got you, Mason. I’ve got you. But we have thirty seconds before this whole dome collapses. Hold on to my neck!"
***
