Chapter 15 - THE GHOST PROTOCOL ACTIVATED
The two contractors advancing through the drainage conduit were seasoned professionals. They wore advanced night-vision goggles, Kevlar rebreathers, and charcoal-gray tactical suits designed to dissipate body heat. They moved with textbook precision, weapons shouldered, sweeping their sectors left and right.
The point man held his hand up, signaling a halt. Through his green-tinted phosphorescent display, he saw a ripple in the shallow water thirty yards ahead.
He raised his suppressed submachine gun, centering his thermal reticle on the ripple.
Nothing appeared on the heat register. The water was freezing cold, masking any temperature differential.
Suddenly, a splash echoed from the left wall—a single spent brass shell casing tossed deliberately into the dark.
The point man swung his barrel reflexively toward the noise.
That microsecond of distraction was all Claire needed.
She rose from the black water like an apparition, completely invisible to their thermal gear because her outer clothing was soaked in near-freezing mountain runoff. Before the point man could acquire her silhouette, Claire grabbed the suppressor of his weapon with her bare hand, forcing the muzzle downward into the concrete floor.
The weapon discharged—*phut-phut-phut*—the rounds chipping violently into the masonry beneath their feet.
Claire drove her forearm into the man’s throat, fracturing his larynx. As he stumbled backward, she stripped the tactical weapon from his hands, spun around his collapsing body, and used his torso as a shield against the second contractor.
The second man reacted with lightning reflexes, firing a controlled three-round burst. The bullets slammed heavily into his partner’s ceramic backplate with dull, concussive thuds.
Claire didn't flinch behind the human barricade. She extended her right arm over the dying operative's shoulder, aligning her sights not with her eyes, but with the predictive rhythm of the second man’s recoil pattern.
She fired two shots in rapid succession.
The first round penetrated the second contractor’s right optical housing, shattering the night-vision unit and blinding him. The second round, fired a fraction of a second later, entered through the bridge of his nose, severing his brainstem instantly.
The tunnel fell dead silent, save for the dripping of groundwater and the heavy, ragged breathing of Master Sergeant Miller back at the junction.
Claire let the dead contractor slide into the water. She calmly knelt down, stripped the tactical gear, night-vision units, and spare ammunition from both men, and piled them on the dry concrete walkway.
Miller stepped forward, her face pale in the faint green illumination of the dropped goggles. "Good God almighty, Claire... you took two elite operators in total darkness in under four seconds."
"Three point eight," Claire corrected, her voice chillingly flat. She picked up an encrypted tactical radio from the lead operative's vest.
A voice crackled through the earpiece, harsh and metallic: *"Team Two, report. Have you located the target?"*
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Claire pressed the transmit key. "Team Two is down. Send the rest of your men, Director. I’m running low on ammunition."
***
