The Inferno at Red Hook
The flare fire was a double-edged sword. It blinded the thermal optics of the containment team, but it was rapidly consuming the oxygen in the small shipyard office.
"Eighty-five percent!" Ethan coughed, his face illuminated by the dancing orange light. "The connection is throttling. They're trying to jam the signal from the boat!"
Julie didn't answer. She couldn't. She was focused on the doorway.
A shadow moved through the smoke—a man in tactical gear, his silhouette distorted by the shimmering heat. He wasn't using his rifle; the space was too tight, the smoke too thick. He pulled a serrated combat knife, moving with a predatory grace that spoke of years of state-sponsored violence.
Julie raised the handgun. Her arms felt like they were made of lead.
"Stop!" she screamed.
The man didn't stop. He lunged.
Julie squeezed the trigger. The recoil was a physical shock, snapping her wrists upward. The bullet went wide, shattering a glass cabinet of maritime charts. The attacker didn't flinch. He was closing the distance, his eyes cold and focused behind his mask.
She fired again. This time, the round caught him in the shoulder, spinning him around. He grunted, dropping the knife, but he didn't fall. He reached for a sidearm at his hip.
Suddenly, the office door behind the man exploded inward.
It wasn't a breach. It was a distraction. A heavy metal canister rattled across the floor, hissing a thick, green-tinted gas. The attacker choked, clutching his throat.
Through the green haze, a figure appeared in the window—not Andrew, but a man Julie recognized from the legal aid office. One of Ethan's "labor dispute" contacts. He wasn't alone. Three other men, dressed in dockworker coveralls and carrying heavy iron wrenches and shotguns, swarmed through the broken window.
"Ethan! Get the girl out!" one of them shouted. "We'll hold the pier!"
"Ninety-nine percent..." Ethan whispered, his eyes glued to the progress bar.
The bar hit one hundred.
UPLOAD COMPLETE. ENCRYPTION BROADCAST ACTIVE.
Ethan slammed the laptop shut. "It's done. Every major news outlet in the Western Hemisphere just got the blueprints."
"The boat," Julie gasped, pointing out the window.
The interceptor boat was backing away from the pier, realizing the tide had turned. But they weren't retreating. They were leveling a mounted weapon toward the office.
"Move!" Ethan tackled Julie to the floor just as the first heavy-caliber rounds began to tear the brick building apart.