Chapter 90 - The Bridge at Constance
The black sedan tore through the blizzard along the winding mountain pass toward Lake Constance. Behind us, the rhythmic chop of the helicopter blades grew deafeningly loud, sweeping out of the storm like predatory birds.
Twin spotlights pierced through the swirling snow, locking onto our vehicle from two hundred feet in the air.
"They've found us!" Clara shouted, unbuckling her seatbelt and clambering into the rear seat to shield Lily and the baby. "Hold on to the seat anchors!"
The rear window shattered in an explosion of safety glass as heavy-caliber rounds raked across the trunk of the car. Evelyn cursed in French, wrestling the steering wheel as the sedan fishtailed violently across a patch of black ice. Sparks showered into the cabin, and the smell of shredded rubber and burning oil filled our lungs.
"There! The Rhine bridge!" Evelyn yelled, pointing through the cracked windshield.
Ahead of us loomed the massive iron arches of the Old Rhine Bridge, the boundary line between Swiss territory and the sovereign treaty zone. On the far side of the river, the blue emergency strobes of neutral border patrols were visible through the driving sleet, a barrier of protection if we could only cross the two-hundred-yard span.
A second helicopter dipped low over the bridge deck, dropping two heavily armed strike teams onto the icy tarmac directly blocking our path.
"They’re cutting off the crossing!" I yelled, pulling my weapon. "Evelyn, don't stop!"
"I don't intend to!" she roared, pressing the pedal to the floorboards.
The heavy sedan plowed straight through the temporary roadblock, wooden barriers splintering into kindling against our reinforced bumper. Gunfire erupted from the soldiers on foot, hammering against the armored doors like hailstones. A round clipped Evelyn’s shoulder; she gasped, her hands slipping from the wheel as the car spun out of control, slamming sideways into the heavy iron girders of the bridge truss.
The impact jarred my teeth, tearing the door off its latch.
Silence descended inside the cabin, broken only by the hiss of the ruptured radiator and the crying of the children. Snow immediately swirled into the shattered car.
"Out! Everybody out!" I choked, kicking my door open and dragging Evelyn from behind the wheel.
Clara tumbled out onto the frozen bridge deck, clutching both children tightly against her chest. We were stranded in the dead center of the bridge, caught between the two shores. Behind us, the lead gunship hovered thirty feet above the roadway, its spotlight pinning us in blinding white light.
A voice boomed through the helicopter's external speakers, metallic and utterly devoid of mercy.
*"Julian Vane. Step away from the children and drop the titanium charter. You have reached the end of the line. Deliver the heir, or this bridge will be your family's mass grave."*
I stood between the blinding spotlight and my shivering family, the cold river wind howling around us, the bridge shaking beneath my boots. In my left hand, I held the titanium cylinder that could dismantle an empire; in my right hand, a weapon with exactly three rounds left.
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Across the bridge, shadows emerged from the fog on the opposite bank—not neutral peacekeepers, but a secondary line of unidentifiable black-armored figures raising long-range rifles directly at our positions from both sides of the border.
We were surrounded. The spotlight flared brighter, blinding us, as the heavy click of dozens of assault rifles cocking in unison echoed through the freezing mist...
