Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Paul: Operation Swan Song
Four-thirty AM. The farmhouse kitchen smells of gun oil and bitter coffee.
"Stop pacing." Merlin doesn't look up from the EMP watch he's examining. "You're making everyone nervous."
"I'm not pacing." But I am. Back and forth across the worn wooden floors, unable to stay still when every cell in my body screams to move, to act, to get to Vivianne now.
"You're going to wear a groove in the floor." He looks up from the watch. "And that's coming from someone who once watched you stand perfectly still for six hours while casing the Louvre."
"That was different."
"How?"
"It just was." I can't explain that stealing paintings never made my hands shake like this. Never made my chest feel like it might explode from the pressure building inside. This isn't a heist—it's everything.
Jenny claps her hands once, sharp as a gunshot. "Circle up. Final briefing."
We gather around the table where she's spread out aerial photos of the estate. Red circles mark entry points. Blue lines show patrol routes. Green dots indicate camera positions. It looks like a battle plan because that's what it is.
"Team One." She points to John and Brett. "You're in with the catering company at 0500. Kitchen access, staff areas. Your job is to map internal movement patterns and identify any additional security we missed."
They nod. Both ex-military, they've done this type of reconnaissance before.
"Team Two." She indicates Charlie. "Florist delivery at 0515. You'll have access to the main house, specifically the bridal suite. Make contact with the target, assess her condition, and signal if there are any complications."
Charlie grins, checking the small camera hidden in her bouquet holder. Despite her warm demeanor, she has a gift for reading situations quickly. "What counts as complications?"
"If she's drugged, restrained, or injured. If there's a guard posted inside her room. If she shows any hesitation about the extraction."
My jaw clenches at the word drugged. The thought of Prescott or her father—
"Team Three." Jenny continues, and I force myself to focus. "Mac and Blaze with the security company at 0530. Blend in with the existing detail, redirect actual security when the extraction begins, and make sure our exit routes stay clear."
"What about Donovan Price?" The question comes out sharp. "He's ex-Delta. He'll spot operators immediately if they don't fit."
"Which is why they're going in as legitimate last-minute additions from a regional security firm." Jenny's tone is patient but firm. "Price will read them as hired muscle for crowd control. As long as they stay professional and don't give him reason to look closer, we're good."
"We've worked events like this before." Mac nods. "Big society weddings love to over-staff security to impress guests."
"And me?" Sam asks from where he's been standing quietly by the window.
"You're our eyes." Jenny turns to him. "Mobile surveillance in vehicle two with Forest. You'll be monitoring all camera feeds, coordinating timing, and running interference if anything goes sideways. Forest stays in the van—you're too..."
"What?" Forest asks.
"Big." The word sparks a round of laughter. "Quiet down." She gives her team a look, but the corners of her mouth twitch with amusement. "You know what I mean. If Donovan Price or any of the other ex-military security see you, they'll make you instantly."
Forest doesn't argue. He knows his size and distinctive features make him memorable—exactly what we don't need on a covert operation.
Jenny turns to Mitzy, who's been quietly working on something that looks like a jewelry box filled with mechanical bees. "Technical support?"
Mitzy holds up one of the drones—no bigger than an actual bumblebee but gleaming with tiny sensors and cameras.
"I'll deploy these in waves. First set at 0545 to map current security positions.
Second wave at ceremony start to create blind spots in their camera coverage.
Each bee can block a camera for approximately ninety seconds before needing to relocate. "
"How many do we have?"
"Forty-seven operational units." She demonstrates on her tablet, showing how the bees will swarm specific cameras in sequence. "I can create a rolling blackout effect—cameras going down and coming back up in a pattern that looks like technical glitches rather than sabotage."
"Brilliant." Merlin murmurs, genuinely impressed. "The vault security?"
"The bees can handle the motion sensors in the corridor." Mitzy confirms. "But the biometric lock is isolated from the main system. That's where the EMP comes in."
Merlin holds up the watch—innocuous-looking, expensive but not ostentatious. "Thirty-second window once activated. The electromagnetic pulse will disrupt all electronics within a ten-foot radius, but it only works once. You need to be in position before you trigger it."
"Which brings us to extraction logistics." Jenny's gaze moves between me and Merlin. "Paul and Merlin, you two are going for the Swan. The vault is your priority. The rest of us handle Vivianne's extraction."
I nod. This was always the plan—the only plan that made sense. We can't leave the Swan behind, and I'm the only one besides Vivianne who knows where the vault is and how to access it. Merlin has the tools and experience to back me up. Together, we'll crack whatever security we encounter.
"Timing is critical." Jenny continues. "The ceremony starts at 1100. Charlie signals us when Vivianne is moved from her suite to the staging area. That's our window—everyone will be focused on the bride, the processional, the ceremony itself."
"How long do we have?" Merlin asks.
"From ceremony start to extraction point, I'm estimating twenty to thirty minutes before anyone realizes she's gone. Maybe less if Prescott or her father check on her early."
"The vault is in the wine cellar, correct?" Mac studies the blueprints.
"Yes." I trace the route again. "Accessible through the service corridors. Merlin and I will enter through the kitchen with Team One, then split off while everyone's attention is on the ceremony."
"And the Swan itself?" Blaze leans forward. "How big, how heavy, how are you transporting it?"
Merlin pulls out a specially designed case—foam-lined, temperature controlled, with built-in shock absorption. "The ruby is approximately four inches in diameter, maybe a pound in weight. This case will protect it and mask any electronic signature it might have."
"Once you have it, exfil is through the south service entrance." Jenny points to the map. "CJ will have vehicle three waiting there. Straight to the airport, private charter already arranged."
"What about Vivianne?" The question comes out before I can stop it, even though I know the answer.
"She goes out the north side with Charlie and me. We'll have her in a photographer's van—I've got credentials to be on-site shooting detail for a society magazine. Once we've got her, we head straight for the second airport. Different location, different flight plan."
It makes sense. Split the targets, split the risk. If one team gets caught, the other still has a chance.
"Questions?" Jenny asks.
"Yeah." Blaze crosses his arms. "What happens if Prescott or Donovan figure out what's happening before we're clear?"
"Then Mac and I become very loud distractions." Her voice is cool. Steady. "We can cause chaos, buy you time to get gone."
"And if that doesn't work?" John asks.
"Then we adapt." Jenny's tone goes flat.
"This is a snatch-and-grab with high-value assets.
Everyone in this room knows things can go sideways fast. That's why we have contingencies, escape routes, and more firepower than we should need.
" She looks around the table. "We're professionals.
We extract the targets, we get out clean. Understood?"
A chorus of affirmatives.
"Good. Teams One and Two roll in thirty minutes. Everyone else, final equipment check."
The kitchen erupts into controlled chaos. Weapons concealed, uniforms adjusted one final time, comm checks performed. I pull Merlin aside.
"The path to the vault." I keep my voice low, pulling out the tablet with all my notes. "One more time."
He takes it, scrolling through my obsessively detailed annotations. "Wine cellar, northeast corner. The 1947 Chateau d'Yquem section—"
"Third rack from the door. The bottle second from the left triggers the mechanism."
"Hidden door opens to a corridor approximately forty feet long. Motion sensors that Mitzy's bees will handle. Biometric lock at the end."
"Which you'll bypass with the EMP."
"Thirty-second window." He confirms. "I'll need you to work the manual override while the system's down. Can you do it?"
Can I pick a lock while my pulse is trying to beat out of my chest and every instinct screams at me to find Vivianne instead? "Yes."
He studies me for a long moment. "She matters to you."
"She's everything."
"They will get her out." He squeezes my shoulder. "And we'll get the Swan. Both. No choosing, no compromise."
On Jenny's signal, John and Brett head out first, their catering van disappearing down the pre-dawn road. Fifteen minutes later, Charlie follows in her florist truck, humming along to the radio like she's just making a delivery.
The rest of us load into our respective vehicles.
I'm with Merlin in CJ's "plumbing van," which is actually a mobile surveillance center with monitors lining one wall and communication equipment taking up another.
Jenny and Mac take the photographer's van.
Blaze and Sam head out in the security company vehicle with Forest hidden in the back with all the monitoring equipment.
As we pull onto the road, the sun breaks over the hills, bathing everything in golden light.
"Team One in position." John's voice crackles through comms fifteen minutes later.
"Team Two arriving now." Charlie reports. "Flowers are gorgeous if I do say so myself."
On the monitors, her van pulls up to the service entrance. Guards check her credentials, wave her through. She disappears inside.
"Team Three approaching." Mac's voice. Our security van pulls up to the main gate. More credential checks. Professional nods exchanged. They're in.
"Technical support deploying first wave." Mitzy announces from her remote location. The monitors fill with tiny dots as her bee drones spread across the estate like a mechanical swarm.
Jenny's voice cuts through the chatter: "All teams, this is Lead. Confirm ready status."
"Team One ready."
"Team Two in position, visual on target's suite."
"Team Three posted and monitoring."
"Surveillance ready." Sam confirms. "Forest has eyes on all feeds."
"Vault team?" Jenny asks.
Merlin looks at me. I nod.
"Ready."
"Copy all. We are go for Operation Swan Song." Jenny's voice is steady, professional. "Execute on my mark at ceremony start. Stay sharp, stay safe, and let's bring them home."
My hand goes to the tactical vest under my jacket. The weight of the Glock is reassuring. The lock picks in my sleeve, the smoke grenades in my pockets, the knife in my boot—all tools I hope I won't need but won't hesitate to use.
Merlin checks his own equipment one final time, then reaches into his jacket and pulls out something unexpected—a small pistol, vintage but well-maintained.
"Just in case."
"You hate guns."
"I hate losing family more." His faded blue eyes meet mine. "We're getting her out, and we're getting the Swan. Trust the team to do their part. We do ours."
On the monitors, guests begin arriving. Expensive cars, designer clothes, false smiles. Somewhere in that house, Vivianne is trapped in a wedding dress, preparing for a ceremony that will never happen.
Because we're about to steal both the bride and the treasure.
My pulse pounds as I check my watch. Two hours until the ceremony starts.
Two hours until we burn this whole charade to the ground.