Phoenix

30. The Eagles

The world was reduced to a white-hot roar of sound and pressure. The shockwave from the Cessna’s violent demise struck Jin and his companions like a physical hand, casting them into the Dutch soil as if they were nothing more than ragdolls.

For a long, terrifying moment, the universe was silent, replaced by a high-pitched, crystalline ringing that vibrated in the very marrow of Jin’s bones.

​The four of them raised their heads through a veil of acrid smoke and swirling dust. The smell was horrendous—a mixture of burnt high-octane fuel, melting rubber, and the scorched grass of the estate.

Jin’s vision swam, but his tactical instincts remained sharp. He surveyed the area with cautious, predatory eyes, searching for a sliver of cover in the flat, exposed landscape.

​"God!" Eva’s voice was a jagged rasp, her eyes wide and glassy as she stared at the funeral pyre of their transport. "Our plane... that... that..." She couldn't form a coherent thought; the suddenness of the assassination attempt had shattered her composure.

​"Gone... and with it, the security deposit," Arya cracked, a wry, jagged joke cutting through the tension. Even with dirt smearing her cheek and her clothes torn, she maintained that defiant, trademark smile, though her eyes were darting toward the sky.

​Jin didn't laugh. He surged upward, his muscles screaming in protest. The Bell helicopter had banked away, a black insect-like silhouette against the sun, hovering just far enough to avoid the secondary explosions as the Cessna’s fuel tanks cooked off. It wouldn't stay away for long. The killers were likely circling for a second pass to confirm their kills.

​"Dr. Buren! We have to move!" Jin shouted over the crackle of the flames.
"Can we get into the hangar?"

​Elisa Van Buren stood up with a trembling frailty that made Jin’s heart sink. She nodded frantically, her white hair matted with dust. Without a word, she began a staggering run toward the massive, camouflaged entrance of the hangar, the rest of the group trailing in her wake like a panicked flock.

​Beside the towering blast door sat a recessed security panel. Elisa reached it first, her fingers hovering over the keypad.

​Jin’s ears popped, the ringing in his head finally subsiding just in time to hear a rhythmic, heavy thrumming growing louder from the east. He turned his head, his heart cold.
The helicopter was returning, sweeping low over the tree line like a hawk. The side doors were slid wide open, revealing the dark, hollow muzzles of machine guns and the tactical gear of the men behind them.

​"For God’s sake, Elisa!" Jin urged, dropping the formalities of rank and age. "Hurry up! They’re on us!"

​Elisa’s hands were a chaotic mess of tremors. She fumbled with the buttons, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. "I... I can't... the numbers..." she whimpered, her mind locking under the shadow of death.

​Seeing the woman's paralysis, Arya didn't hesitate. She stepped in, shoulder-charging Elisa gently aside. "Let me do it. Just give me the numbers! Fast!"

​The scientist took a shuddering breath, her eyes squeezed shut as she visualized the sequence. "Six...one...two...one... Four...One...Two...Five...Zero...Eight!"

​Arya’s fingers danced across the keypad with the precision of a concert pianist. A dull, heavy thud echoed from within the hill—the sound of massive steel bolts disengaging. Then, with a prolonged, pressurized hiss, the mechanized doors of the hangar began to groan apart, moving sideways to reveal a cavernous darkness.

​The noise of the rotors was suddenly drowned out by the staccato of automatic fire. The air around them erupted in geysers of dirt and stone. The miscreants in the helicopter were opening up, unwilling to let their quarry vanish into the safety of the bunker.