Chapter 2 - The Ghost Protocol
"Get down!" Caleb roared, his voice a raw, primeval sound as he lunged forward, tackling Dr. Vance to the wooden deck boards.
Lily threw herself flat against the deck, her hands covering her head as a second sniper round tore through the glass window of the kitchen behind her. The sound of shattering glass was deafening, a sharp, violent intrusion into their peaceful sanctuary.
Caleb moved with terrifying, fluid speed. He dragged Dr. Vance behind the solid stone chimney structure at the side of the deck, then reached out, grabbing Lily’s wrist and pulling her into the shelter of the masonry.
"Are you hit?" Caleb barked, his gray-blue eyes scanning Lily’s body with a desperate, frantic intensity.
"I’m okay! I’m okay!" Lily cried, her chest heaving as she clutched her shawl. "What about Dr. Vance?"
The older man was gasping for air, his hand clutching his chest as his cane rolled across the deck. "It’s my heart... my medication... in my coat pocket..."
Lily immediately went into professional mode. She reached into Vance’s heavy tweed coat, pulling out a small plastic bottle of nitroglycerin pills. She popped one under his tongue, her hands steady despite the adrenaline screaming through her veins. "Hold still, Richard. Deep breaths. Let the medicine work."
Caleb peered around the edge of the stone chimney. The sniper was positioned in the high tree line across the gravel road—roughly three hundred yards away. It was a cold, calculated hit. They weren't rushing the house; they were trying to pin them down until a secondary assault team could arrive from the water.
Caleb turned back to Lily, his fingers moving with rapid, military precision.
The boat, he signed. The assault team is coming from the dock. We have less than three minutes before they breach the lower stairs.
"What do we do?" Lily signed back, her fingers steadying as she looked into his eyes. "We can't go to the car. The sniper has the driveway covered."
The water, Caleb signed. We use the lobster boat. It’s dark, the fog is rolling in, and they won't expect us to head directly toward their surveillance ship. It’s our only blind spot.
Caleb pulled his tactical pistol from his waistband. He handed a secondary compact weapon to Lily—the small, sleek nine-millimeter he had taught her to shoot during their quiet weekends. "If anyone comes through that gate, you shoot, Lily. No hesitation. Understood?"
"Understood," she whispered, her grip tightening around the cold polymer handle of the gun.
Caleb hoisted the semi-conscious Dr. Vance over his broad shoulder with a single, powerful grunt. "Stay low. Run on my mark."
He waited for the rhythmic sweep of the lighthouse beam to pass over the deck, casting a momentary shadow across the lawn.
May you like
"Go!"
They sprinted down the wooden steps, running toward the steep, winding staircase that led down the granite cliff to the private dock. Behind them, another sniper round struck the gravel path, throwing up a cloud of dirt and sparks, but they were already over the crest of the hill, plunging into the dark, protective shadow of the cliffside.
