Chapter 6 - Ten Miles Out
The black Suburban blew past the welcome sign for Oakridge Estates—a private, ultra-wealthy enclave nestled behind five miles of dense deciduous forest and wrought-iron fencing.
"Ten miles out," Deacon called out, tapping the Toughbook. "The beacon's telemetry shows secondary impacts. High-stress markers. Marcus, her vital telemetry is spiking through the roof. If she stays in that state of shock, she could go into preterm labor."
Marcus squeezed the wheel until his tendons strained beneath the skin. "How many private security personnel on the gate?"
"Usually two guards from a private contractor," Deacon said, pulling up the municipal zoning blueprints of the development. "Hydraulic drop arm, electronic keycard system. Concrete-reinforced guardhouse."
"We aren't waiting for them to open the gate," Marcus said.
"Understood," Deacon replied without missing a beat. He reached down and flipped a heavy red toggle switch on the dash. A hydraulic winch system engaged, locking the reinforced steel bull-bar on the Suburban's front bumper into rigid alignment with the vehicle's boxed frame. The heavy truck was transformed into a nine-thousand-pound battering ram on wheels.
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Marcus picked up his satellite radio headset and keyed the internal channel. "Clara's safety is priority one. We neutralize the threat, we secure her vitals, and we exfiltrate. Anyone touches her, anyone gets between me and my sister, they get dropped. Understood?"
"Loud and clear, Gunny," Deacon said, racking the slide of a sidearm and chambering a round before holstering it securely at his hip. "Let's go bring our girl home."
