Chapter 23 Infiltrate #2
Sebastian's left hand never stopped typing.
His right hand grabbed his bow, nocked an arrow, and released in one fluid motion.
The arrow caught the second man in the chest. Obsidian tip punched through Kevlar like tissue paper.
The man staggered. Sebastian typed three more commands, then put another arrow through the man's throat.
“Upload at twenty-eight percent,” Noah reported. “Keep going.”
Three down. Three to go.
A guard charged my position. I met him head-on, ducked under his rifle swing, drove my elbow into his throat. Cartilage crunched. He gagged, stumbled back. I swept his legs, came down on top of him, knife finding the gap between his vest and collar. Blood fountained. He went still.
Sebastian's fingers never stopped moving across the keyboard. His eyes flicked to the right. Guard approaching from his blind spot. He grabbed his bow one-handed, twisted in his chair, and released. The arrow took the man through the eye. Sebastian was back to typing before the body hit the floor.
“Forty-three percent. Faster than I expected.”
Grenades bounced across the floor. Small. Metal. Flash-bangs, maybe. Or worse.
“Down!” I grabbed the nearest server rack, pulled it over as cover. The explosion rocked the basement. Light. Sound. Heat. My ears screamed. Vision went white.
Through the ringing, I heard Sebastian still typing.
Then shapes moved through the smoke. More guards. At least eight. Pouring in from multiple directions.
“Sebastian, we have a problem,” I said.
“I can see them.” His voice was calm. Focused. “Upload's at fifty-nine percent. Buy me two minutes.”
Two minutes. A lifetime in combat.
I moved forward, intercepting the first wave. A man swung at me with a tactical baton. I caught his wrist, twisted until bones snapped, used his momentum to throw him into his partner. Both went down. I shot them where they lay.
Sebastian spun in his chair, bow drawn, and released three arrows in rapid succession. Three different targets. All headshots. Then he was back to typing, one hand on the keyboard while the other nocked another arrow.
A guard came at me from the left, knife flashing. I parried with my forearm, felt the blade bite into my jacket but not skin. Grabbed his knife hand, broke his elbow backward. He screamed. I silenced him with a shot to the temple.
“Seventy-four percent,” Noah said. “Almost there.”
Two guards coordinated an assault on Sebastian's position. Smart. Professional. They moved in a pincer formation, covering each other.
Sebastian saw them coming. Didn't stop typing. His left hand flew across keys while his right hand grabbed a throwing knife from his belt. He threw it without looking. It buried itself in the first guard's throat. The man dropped.
The second guard raised his rifle. Sebastian grabbed his bow, rolled backward out of his chair, came up firing. The arrow caught the guard mid-chest. He fell.
Sebastian was back in the chair, typing, before the echoes faded.
“Ninety-one percent,” Noah reported.
A massive guard, easily two hundred fifty pounds, charged through the server racks like a bull. Headed straight for Sebastian. For the terminal.
I intercepted him. Barely. He hit me like a truck. We went down together, rolled across concrete. His fist caught my jaw. Stars exploded. I tasted copper.
I drove my knee into his ribs. Once. Twice. Three times. Felt something crack. He didn't slow. Grabbed my throat with hands like vices. Squeezed.
Air cut off. Vision narrowing. I reached for my knife. Fingers found the handle. Drew it. Drove it up under his armpit. Twisted. He roared, grip loosening. I yanked the blade out, slashed across his throat. Arterial spray painted my face.
He collapsed on top of me. Dead weight. I shoved him off, gasping.
“Upload complete,” Noah said. “I've got everything. Files are already decrypting. Get out of there. Now.”
“Copy.” Sebastian yanked the cable free, grabbed his bow. “Viktor, we're done.”
We moved fast. Back through the basement. Over bodies that were still warm. More guards poured down the stairs. We were outnumbered. Outgunned. Trapped.
“Stairs are blocked,” I said.
“Then we make a new exit.” Sebastian nocked an arrow, fired at a support beam. The arrow embedded deep. He fired another. Then another. Creating a pattern.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Trust me.”
He fired one more arrow into a gas line running along the ceiling. The spark from the obsidian tip ignited the leak.
“Run!”
We sprinted toward the far wall. Behind us, the explosion tore through the basement. Heat and pressure lifted us off our feet. We hit a weakened section of concrete wall. It gave way. We crashed through into a storm drain.
Water rushed past. Cold. Fast. Filthy.
“That was insane,” I said.
“But effective.” Sebastian grabbed my arm. “Come on. Drain empties into the Thames.”
We waded through waist-deep water. My shoulder throbbed where shrapnel had caught me. Blood mixed with sewage. Everything hurt.
Behind us, voices shouted. Flashlight beams cut through darkness. They were following.
“How far?” I asked.
“Two hundred meters. Maybe less.”
A guard appeared at the entrance we'd come through. Raised his rifle. Sebastian shot him through the throat without breaking stride. The man fell into the water. Floated past us.
Two more guards appeared. Both fired. Bullets sparked off concrete. We dove under the water. Came up behind a support column. I returned fire. Dropped one. Sebastian's arrow found the other.
“Contact ahead,” Noah's voice crackled through the waterlogged comm. “Three hostiles at the exit point.”
“Of course there are,” Sebastian muttered.
We reached the exit. Chain-link fence blocked it. Beyond, the Thames churned black and cold. Three guards waited on the other side, weapons raised.
Sebastian nocked an arrow. “On three. You take left. I take center and right.”
“That is two targets for you.”
“I'm good with multitasking.” His grin was feral. Wild. “One.”
I raised my pistol.
“Two.”
The guards tensed. Fingers on triggers.
“Three.”
We moved together. I shot left. Double tap. The man dropped. Sebastian released his first arrow, caught center guard through the eye, nocked a second arrow before the first man fell, and put it through the third guard's throat.
All three down in under two seconds.
“Show off,” I said.
“You're welcome.”
We climbed through the fence. Emerged onto a muddy bank. Rain hammered down. The city sprawled ahead, all lights and sirens and the promise of temporary safety.
“Noah,” Sebastian said into the comm. “We're clear. Files uploaded?”
“Already decrypting. This is good work. Really good. Financial records going back eighteen months. Communication logs. Everything we need.” A pause. “Head to the safehouse. Greenwich. I'll have preliminary analysis done by the time you arrive.”
“Copy.”
The bike was four blocks away. We ran through rain-soaked streets, staying to alleys, avoiding cameras. My lungs burned. Shoulder screamed. Didn't matter. We had the data. Had the proof.
Had each other.
We reached the bike. Sebastian threw his leg over, started the engine. I climbed on behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist. Held on.
He drove fast. Reckless. Like the devil was chasing us. Maybe he was.