Chapter 33 - Breach at Provence
The wailing sirens ripped through the tranquility of the southern French estate like a razor through silk. On the security monitors, the serene expanse of lavender fields was violently illuminated by descending flares. Three black, unmarked helicopters materialized over the tree line, flying low and fast beneath civilian radar.
“Mommy?” Lily’s voice trembled from the doorway of the library. She stood clutching her small velvet coat, her big brown eyes wide with terror as the red alarm lights washed over her small frame. “What’s that loud noise?”
Emma was across the room in a heartbeat, dropping to her knees and pulling Lily tightly against her chest. “It’s okay, baby. Listen to me. Remember the game we played in Geneva? The quiet shadow game?”
Lily nodded bravely, though tears welled in her eyes. “We have to be mice.”
“That’s my brave girl. You stay right beside me, no matter what.” Emma stood, lifting Lily into her arms, and turned to Daniel. “Where do we go? The airstrip is in the open; those gunships will tear a taxiing jet to pieces.”
“Arthur prepared for a complete estate siege,” Catherine said, walking toward the grand stone fireplace. She reached inside the carved mantle, pressing a concealed iron lever disguised as a hearth bracket. With a heavy, grinding groan, the floorboards beneath the ancient Persian rug retracted, revealing a narrow spiral staircase of reinforced concrete descending into pitch darkness. “Domaine Laurent was built over seventeenth-century smuggling tunnels that connect directly to the subterranean canal system leading to the Rhône River.”
“We take the armored launch,” Daniel said, racking the slide of his sidearm and checking the magazine of an automatic rifle he pulled from a hidden cabinet behind the bookshelf. “I’ve already signaled our offshore extraction unit. A high-speed vessel is idling in Marseille. But we need to move now. In three minutes, thermite charges will breach the upper balconies.”
A deafening explosion rocked the upper floor of the chateau. Plaster and dust rained down from the vaulted ceiling as the shatter of stained glass echoed like gunshots. Heavy tactical boots thumped against the ceiling timbers directly above them.
“Catherine, come!” Emma yelled, grabbing the old matriarch’s sleeve.
Catherine gently pulled Emma’s hand away, placing a worn silver locket into Lily’s tiny pocket. “I am an old woman, Emma. In the tunnels, I will only slow you down. They do not want me. If I am captured, my lawyers have dead-man switches that tie up their offshore assets for decades. Go. Find your mother. Protect the child.”
“I won’t leave you!” Emma cried out, remembering her adoptive mother’s cowardice and seeing the exact opposite in Catherine’s resolute eyes.
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“You are a Laurent!” Catherine ordered, her voice ringing with the iron command of an ancient dynasty. “You run when you must, and you strike when they least expect it. Daniel, get them into the ground!”
Daniel grabbed Emma by the shoulders, pulling her toward the opening as a flash grenade detonated at the top of the grand staircase outside the library. The blast hurled a cloud of white smoke through the doors. Daniel shoved Emma and Lily down into the tunnel, slammed the iron hatch shut, and engaged the heavy pneumatic deadbolts just as a hail of submachine-gun fire shredded the wooden door behind them.
