Chapter 57
The descent was agonizingly slow. The air rushing up from the depths of Raven Rock was stale and smelled of ancient concrete and ozone. Cole hit the bottom of the shaft, unclipping his harness silently, and drew his suppressed MP7.
Donovan landed beside him a second later.
They were in a massive, dimly lit mechanical corridor. The hum of industrial generators masked the sound of their footsteps.
"Sarah, we are in sector four," Cole whispered. "Route us to the primary uplink."
"You need to head north, through the main communication hub," Sarah directed. "Be careful, Cole. Thermal shows two roving patrols. Four men each. Heavy armor."
Cole and Donovan moved like shadows, navigating the labyrinth of steel corridors. They reached an intersection just as the heavy, synchronized footsteps of a patrol echoed down the hall.
Cole held up a fist. They pressed themselves against the cold metal bulkhead, melting into the darkness.
The four guards passed within three feet of them, their assault rifles raised, completely unaware of the apex predator holding his breath in the shadows.
"Clear," Cole murmured, slipping past the patrol.
They reached the heavy, biometric blast doors of the primary communication hub.
"It requires a retinal scan," Donovan noted, examining the keypad.
"I don't have time to slice it," Cole said coldly. He pulled a specialized, localized EMP emitter from his vest and slapped it against the scanner.
Zzt.
The electrical surge fried the locking mechanism. The heavy steel doors groaned and hissed open.
They stepped into the nerve center of the mountain. It was a massive, circular room bathed in the blue glow of towering server racks and massive digital monitors displaying global satellite trajectories.
But standing in the center of the room, calmly watching them enter, was a man in an immaculate, tailored suit.
"Director Vance is occupied in Washington, Lieutenant," the man smiled smoothly, stepping into the light. It was the same aristocratic British voice that had threatened Vincent Castalano months ago. The true Architect of the new world.
"You," Cole breathed out, his weapon raised, the laser sight painting the man’s chest.
"I am a man of many titles," the Architect chuckled, resting his hands casually behind his back. "Vance thought she was using my resources to build her empire. But bureaucrats are so easily manipulated. She sent her army to New York, leaving my masterpiece entirely unguarded. For me."
"You are going to die in this room," Cole promised, his voice a low, vibrating hum of absolute lethality.
"I doubt it," the Architect smiled.
He snapped his fingers.
From the shadows of the upper catwalks, twelve elite Praetorian guards emerged, their heavy weapons aimed directly down at Cole and Donovan.
"You brought a knife to a gunfight, Cole," the Architect mocked. "Drop the vial, and I will let the Sergeant live."
Cole didn't lower his weapon. He looked at Donovan, a silent, profound understanding passing between the two veterans.
"We don't negotiate with terrorists," Donovan growled, raising her assault rifle.
May you like
"Then die," the Architect sneered.
"Sarah," Cole whispered into his comms. "Execute Protocol Zero."
