Chapter 7 - Infiltrating the Vanguard
Blackwood Hall sat atop a dramatic, rocky ridge in the heart of the Shenandoah Valley, surrounded by dense pine forests and steep, treacherous cliffs.
It was built in the 1920s as a private mountain retreat for industrial tycoons, but under Charles Sterling’s ownership, it had been transformed into a hardened corporate command fortress. A ten-foot-tall steel fence topped with razor wire enclosed the entire perimeter, monitored by infrared motion cameras and roving security patrols in armored SUVs.
I parked my truck two miles away in a thick ravine, switching off the engine and letting the darkness envelope me.
I checked my watch. 1:45 a.m.
Fifteen minutes before Sterling’s deadline.
I didn't approach through the main security gate. That was what a desperate man would do—drive up to the front guardhouse, throw his weapons out the window, and beg for his daughter's life.
Sterling expected a broken father. He was going to get a retired Ranger Colonel.
I moved through the dark woods like a shadow, taking advantage of the heavy rain and howling wind that masked the sound of my footsteps. I reached the eastern boundary of the estate—a sheer, seventy-foot limestone cliff face where the security fence ended, relying on the natural terrain to deter intruders.
I pulled a tactical climbing harness and a high-tensile graphite grappling line from my pack.
With three smooth, quiet rotations, I swung the weighted hook and launched it upward toward an exposed pine tree jutting out from the cliff top. The hook bit deep into the wet wood with a dull thunk.
I tested the line, pulled myself up, and began ascending the wet rock wall.
My body burned. My sixty-year-old knees screamed in protest, and my lungs labored against the thin, damp mountain air. But every time my grip slipped on the muddy stone, I saw the carved letters on my daughter’s back.
HE LIED TO YOU TOO.
Rage gave my muscles a second wind. I hauled myself over the rocky crest, landing silently in a thick patch of ferns inside the estate's inner perimeter.
Directly in front of me stood Blackwood Hall—a imposing stone mansion blazed with light from floor-to-ceiling windows.
I clicked my earbud communications link once.
"Marcus," I whispered into the mic. "I’m inside the perimeter. What's your status at St. Mary's?"
A burst of static answered, followed by Marcus’s low voice. "We’re in position in the parking garage beneath Trauma Room Two, Colonel. Sarah just initiated the power loop. The third-floor security grid is dark. We move in thirty seconds."
"Copy," I replied. "Executing distraction now."
I pulled two thermite incendiary charges from my pack, attached them to the main power junction box behind the estate's detached garage, and pulled the delay pins.
Ten seconds later, a blinding, white-hot chemical explosion tore through the junction box.
Electric sparks erupted into the rain like fireworks. Instantly, the floodlights illuminating the estate’s front lawn went dark. Emergency sirens began wailing across the grounds, and armed guards in dark uniforms came pouring out of the side entrances, shouting into their radios.
May you like
Under cover of the chaos, I sprinted across the dark lawn, slid past a stone patio, and slipped through a broken glass service door into the lower basement of Blackwood Hall.
I was inside the monster's lair.
