Chapter 4 - The Betrayal at City CenterThe Montgomery Tower sat in the heart of downtown Oak Ridge—a twenty-story glass monolith that represented everything money and influence could buy.
It was 2:30 AM. The streets below were completely deserted, swept by heavy sheets of rain.
I parked my truck in an alleyway two blocks away. My mind was moving with icy, absolute clarity. The adrenaline was gone, replaced by the lethal focus that had kept me alive through three tours with the Special Operations Command.
I pulled my tactical vest over my chest, pulling two 9mm sidearms from my gear bag, equipping suppressor attachments to both barrels. I slid three spare magazines into my chest pouches, attached a tactical breaching charge to my belt, and grabbed my satellite comms unit.
"Ghost," I said as I pushed through the side basement door of the tower. "I'm in the building."
"I've got the floor plans up," Ghost replied instantly over the earpiece. "Richard Montgomery’s penthouse suite is on the twentieth floor. The private elevator requires a keycard, but I can override the security system from here. Give me five seconds."
A soft chime sounded down the hall as the elevator doors slid open.
"You're clear to the top," Ghost said. "Be careful, Mason. I just intercepted a radio transmission from Grant’s unit. He called for three off-duty tactical officers to join him up there. They’re armed, and they know you’re on the loose."
"Good," I said, stepping into the elevator. "That saves me the trouble of hunting them down individually."
The elevator accelerated smoothly upward. Floors flashed by on the digital display: 10... 12... 15... 18...
When the display hit 19, I pressed the emergency stop button.
The elevator lurched to a halt between floors. I reached up, popped open the ceiling hatch, and hoisted myself up onto the roof of the elevator cab.
Two seconds later, the main doors on the twentieth floor slid open automatically as Ghost overrode the system.
Through the narrow gap above the door frame, I saw two heavily armed off-duty police officers standing in the penthouse foyer, rifles raised, waiting for the elevator doors to open.
"He's not in here!" one officer yelled into his radio.
"Check the shaft!" the other shouted.
Before he could look up, I dropped down through the ceiling hatch behind them.
I landed silently on the carpet. In one continuous motion, I grabbed the first officer by the throat, driving his head violently into the concrete wall. He went limp instantly.
The second officer turned, swinging his rifle around, but I was already inside his guard. I slapped the barrel aside, jammed my elbow into his solar plexus, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it until his shoulder popped out of its socket. He gasped in pain, dropping his weapon. I finished him with a short, brutal upper-cut to the chin.
Both guards were down in under four seconds without a single shot fired.
I picked up one of their tactical assault rifles, checked the chamber, and flicked the safety off.
I moved down the marble hallway toward the double mahogany doors at the end of the corridor. Golden light spilled beneath the frame, accompanied by the heated sound of raised voices.
"I told you this was a mistake, Richard!" a familiar voice shouted from inside. It was Marcus Vance—my old teammate. "You told me Mason asked you to secure his drive! You didn't tell me your kid and Grant went to his house!"
"Shut up, Marcus!" Richard Montgomery’s voice sneered back. "You work for me! I paid for your security company, I bought your house, and I pay your salary! If that hard drive gets exposed, my company goes under, and you go to prison right alongside me for taking kickbacks!"
"And what about Violet?" Marcus roared. "She’s in the ICU, Richard! Mason’s daughter is fighting for her life!"
"She was collateral damage!" Detective Grant’s gravelly voice chimed in. "She saw my face, Marcus! What was I supposed to do? Let her tell her Ranger father that I was in his house? We hit the drive, we plant the story about a robbery gone bad, and it all blows over in a week!"
Collateral damage.
The words burned through my brain like molten iron.
I didn't knock. I didn't announce myself.
I planted the tactical breaching charge directly over the lock mechanism, stepped back three feet, and detonated it.
BOOM!
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The heavy mahogany doors exploded inward in a shower of wooden splinters and smoke.
Before the debris even hit the floor, I crossed the threshold, rifle raised to my shoulder.
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