Chapter 7 - The Storming of the Estate
The three black SUVs killed their headlights two hundred yards from the iron gates of the Old Saybrook estate.
The rain was torrential, creating a thick, blinding fog off the ocean cliffs. The iron gates were closed, guarded by two men in heavy rain gear carrying concealed automatic weapons under their coats—Chen’s private mercs, disguised as private security.
"Take out the gates," Richard ordered into his earpiece.
The lead armored SUV surged forward, its twin bull-bars slamming into the iron gates with a deafening crash of tearing metal and shattering locks. The gates burst open, swinging violently into the driveway.
Before the two guards could draw their weapons, Vance’s men jumped from the trailing vehicles, deploying non-lethal flashbangs and tactical restraints. Within ten seconds, both guards were neutralized, bound, and silenced in the mud.
The convoy roared up the winding stone driveway, stopping directly in front of the main portico, blocking the exit of Chen’s Maybach.
Richard stepped out into the rain, his boots crunching on the wet gravel. Behind him, six heavily armed, highly trained tactical guards formed a breach stack at the heavy oak front doors.
"Catherine, stay in the middle vehicle until the interior is secure," Richard commanded over his radio.
"Richard, be careful," her voice came back through his earpiece, thick with anxiety.
Vance stepped up to the front door, placed a breaching charge on the heavy brass lock, and stepped back. "Breaching in three... two... one..."
BANG!
The lock exploded inward, showering the grand entrance hall with wood splinters. The tactical team burst through the door with flashlights cutting through the thick smoke drifting up from the basement stairs.
"Security! Hands where we can see them! Down on the floor!" Vance roared, his team sweeping the lower hallway.
Shouts rang out in Mandarin and English from the upper balcony. Two armed mercenaries appeared at the top of the marble staircase, raising their pistols.
Vance’s team didn't hesitate. Precision stun rounds and suppression fire echoed through the grand foyer, shattering glass chandeliers and sending decorative vases bursting into ceramic dust. The two mercenaries collapsed down the stairs, their weapons sliding across the polished marble floor.
Richard strode through the shattered front entrance, his eyes cool, calculated, and totally devoid of fear. He walked past the fallen guards, stepping into the primary living hall.
The air inside smelled of burnt insulation, expensive cigars, and old paper.
At the far end of the room, standing behind a massive glass desk with a reinforced steel briefcase open in front of him, was Julian Chen.
He was a man in his late fifties, impeccably groomed in a tailor-made grey suit, though his tie was slightly askew and his face was slick with sweat. He was frantically shoving hard drives, passport documents, and bearer bonds into the briefcase.
Behind him, tied to a heavy wooden dining chair, was a young woman.
Her hair was wet, matted with mud and smoke. Her clothes were torn, and her pale face was bruised, but her dark eyes were burning with an fierce, unbroken spirit.
"Evelyn," Richard said quietly, recognizing her resemblance to Catherine instantly.
Julian Chen snapped his head up, his hand darting toward an open drawer where a dark revolver lay.
"I wouldn't touch that weapon, Chen," Richard’s voice rang out like an iron bell across the silent hall.
Vance and three tactical operators instantly raised their red laser sights, locking four glowing crimson dots directly onto Julian Chen’s chest and forehead.
Chen froze. His hand hovered an inch above the desk. Slowly, very slowly, he raised his hands into the air, a bitter, twisted smile breaking across his slick face.
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"Richard Hartford..." Chen sneered, his voice raspy and accented. "The great American CEO. I wondered whose private force had the nerve to breach a private estate in Connecticut. What is this? A corporate raid?"
"No," Richard said, walking slowly toward the desk, stepping over broken glass. "It's a rescue operation. And you're out of time."
