Chapter 5 - The Siege of Oyster Bay
5
The red emergency strobe lights pulsed against the concrete walls of the subterranean bunker, casting long, writhing shadows across the stainless-steel conference table. Above them, the unmistakable concussive thud of heavy ordnance shook the foundations of Hawthorne Manor.
"They've deployed tactical breaching charges at the main service elevators," Director Vance reported, his voice entirely devoid of panic as he racked the slide of his Heckler & Koch submachine gun. He stepped out from the bunker’s armory alcove, tossing an extra tactical vest and a magazine pouch toward Raymond. "They aren't sending four men this time, boss. Satellite telemetry shows three armored personnel carriers and at least two dozen Vanguard operatives moving onto the grounds."
Raymond caught the vest effortlessly, slipping his arms through the heavy Kevlar straps and cinching the buckles tight across his chest. He looked over at Beatrice, who was curled into a fetal position on the floor beside the conference table, paralyzed by shock and terror.
"Vance, secure Mrs. Hawthorne in the reinforced safe-room vault at the back of the bunker," Raymond ordered, his tone absolute. "Give her a sat-phone wired to the local federal marshal's office in Manhattan."
"Raymond, please don't leave me!" Beatrice wept, clutching at the hem of his trousers as Vance gently pulled her away. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything!"
"If we survive this night, Beatrice, we will have a very long conversation about family loyalty," Raymond said coldly, turning away from her. He picked up his custom Walther PPK, checked the magazine chamber, and slid it into his chest holster. "Right now, I have a war to finish."
Raymond walked through the double blast doors into the subterranean vehicle bay.
Parked under the amber lights was the obsidian Rolls-Royce Phantom, and beside it, a heavily modified Ford F-550 tactical command truck equipped with reinforced steel plating and run-flat tires. Standing near the rear doors of the truck were Elena and little Leo.
Elena was pale, her knuckles white as she held Leo tight against her shoulder, but her eyes held a fierce, unwavering resolve. When she saw Raymond approach in full tactical gear, she didn't scream or beg him to stay. She understood the stakes better than anyone; she knew these men were the same monsters who had stolen her husband from the sky.
"Raymond," Elena said steadily, stepping forward as he drew near. "Leo is safe in the armored compartment of the truck. The rear hatch is keyed to your biometric thumbprint. If... if things go sideways, the vehicle is programmed to autopilot through the estate's secondary escape tunnel out to the Long Island Sound coastline."
Raymond stopped, looking down at his daughter-in-law with a deep, profound wave of respect. For all of Beatrice’s venomous claims about Elena not fitting into their "high-society world," Elena possessed more raw courage, dignity, and steel than the entire Hawthorne board of directors combined.
"You're not staying behind to watch me drive away, Elena," Raymond said softly, handing her a secure encrypted comms-headset. "You're going to sit in the driver's seat of that tactical truck. And when I give you the word, you are going to drive my grandson straight to the federal courthouse in Foley Square, hand the micro-drive directly to District Attorney Vance, and tell him the Hawthorne war has begun."
"And you?" Elena asked, her voice cracking slightly as she looked into his eyes.
May you like
A grim, humorless smile touched Raymond’s lips. "I'm going to introduce Vanguard Global Security to the real cost of doing business."
Before Elena could reply, the main reinforced ceiling hatch of the subterranean vehicle bay exploded inward in a blinding shower of sparks, white-hot shrapnel, and roaring fire.
