Chapter 11 - THE SIEGE OF THE NORTH GATE
-11-
The Gulfstream jet touched down on the private tarmac of the Rossi estate just as the first rays of dawn began to bleed through the freezing morning fog. Without waiting for the ground crew to secure the boarding stairs, Leo and Sterling threw open the cabin door and descended directly onto the wet pavement, where an armored estate transport was already idling with its engine roaring.
The drive up to the mansion took less than two minutes, but as they rounded the final bend of the winding driveway, Leo knew something was catastrophically wrong.
The towering wrought-iron security gates at the north entrance had been blown completely off their massive stone pillars. Twisted iron bars and shattered masonry littered the snow-covered asphalt. The estate’s primary perimeter floodlights were dark, their glass casings smashed by targeted gunfire.
"The security grid is down," Sterling said, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. "I have no signal. They’ve deployed a localized EMP jammer."
"Get down!" Leo roared, yanking Sterling’s head down as a high-caliber sniper round screamed through the air and punched a neat, smoking hole right through the armored windshield of the SUV.
The vehicle slewed sideways, the tires screeching against the ice before slamming to a halt against a snowbank.
Doors flew open. Leo drew his Sig Sauer pistol, rolling out of the vehicle and taking cover behind the frozen engine block. Sterling scrambled out behind him, his hands shaking as he pulled out his own licensed snub-nosed revolver.
"Where are the guards?" Sterling yelled over the howling wind.
"Neutralized," Leo said grimly, scanning the treeline with his weapon raised. The digital perimeter logs were completely dead. Beatrice and the estate security team were either locked in the panic room or overrun.
And Lily was inside the mansion.
"Thomas, listen to me," Leo instructed, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp tactical register. "I'm going to draw their fire from the front courtyard. You take the service tunnel entrance behind the greenhouses—the mechanical lock hasn't been integrated into the smart-home network, so it should still be manual. Get into the basement bunker, find Beatrice and Lily, and lock yourselves in the vault."
"And you?" Sterling asked, horrified. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to welcome my uncle home," Leo said.
Before Sterling could argue, Leo exploded out from behind the SUV, sprinting across the open snow-covered lawn toward the grand front terrace, firing three rapid rounds into the upper treeline where the muzzle flash of the sniper rifle had flickered a moment before.
Instantly, the estate erupted into chaos. Automatic gunfire chewed up the marble balustrades of the terrace, sending white stone chips flying through the air like shrapnel. A squad of four heavily armed mercenaries wearing tactical black gear and the same blank porcelain masks from the mausoleum video poured out from the shadows of the west wing, advancing toward the front doors with military precision.
Leo didn't run. He slid behind a massive marble planter, steadying his breathing, and squeezed the trigger of his Sig Sauer with cold, deliberate calculation.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Two of the masked gunmen dropped instantly into the snow, clutching their legs and shoulders. The remaining two scrambled for cover behind the pillars, returning blind, suppression fire that chewed up the woodwork of the grand entrance.
Utilizing the heavy smoke from a damaged exterior generator, Leo vaulted over the planter, crossed the remaining twenty yards of open courtyard in a desperate sprint, and threw his shoulder against the heavy oak front doors.
They weren't locked. In fact, they had been left wide open.
Leo slipped across the threshold into the dark, silent foyer of the mansion, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him and locking the manual deadbolt.
The air inside the house was freezing, the smart-climate control system completely shut down. The grand salon was empty, the crystal chandelier hanging overhead in ominous stillness. But as Leo crept down the central hallway toward the grand staircase, a soft, mechanical sound echoed from the direction of the master study upstairs.
Clack... clack... clack...
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Someone was playing a classical piano sonata in the dark.
Leo gripped his pistol, his heart hammering against his ribs, and began to ascend the stairs one slow, agonizing step at a time, walking straight into the heart of the trap.
