2026-02-05 23:23:27
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The Trap
Marcus's phone rang at three in the morning, and he answered it right away because sleep had already left him hours earlier."We found him," the Edinburgh operative said without preamble. "Alexander Rostov is in Azerbaijan, inside a fortified compound thirty kilometers outside Baku."Marcus swung his legs off the bed and started pulling on clothes while the words settled in his chest like cold weight. "You're certain this time?""Satellite imagery shows heavy security, forty armed personnel, advanced surveillance systems throughout the property, and Rostov's personal vehicles are parked inside the garage.""Send me everything you have," Marcus said, and he ended the call before the operative could respond.Twenty minutes later he stood in the Foundation's French facility command center, facing Derick and Jackson across the long table while satellite photos filled the main screen. "Alexander is holed up here," Marcus explained as he pointed to the images. "The compound belongs to one o
The Time For Action
The two SUVs raced down Swiss mountain roads at speeds that would terrify any normal driver. Derick gripped the handle above his door as Marcus took a hairpin turn at ninety kilometers per hour.Behind them, three black vans appeared, Alexander's mercenaries giving chase."They're still on us!" Lily shouted from the back seat.Jackson was in the second vehicle. His voice came through the radio. "Foundation air support is seven minutes out. We just need to stay alive until then."The mercenaries opened fire. Bullets sparked off the SUV's armored rear panel.Marcus swerved, taking them off the main road onto a narrow mountain path. "Hold on!"The SUV bounced over rough terrain. Trees whipped past on both sides. One of the pursuit vans tried to follow but misjudged the turn and slammed into a tree."One down," Marcus said grimly. "Two to go."The second van pulled alongside them. A mercenary leaned out the window with an assault rifle."Get down!" Derick shouted.Bullets shattered the pa
Victor Ashford
The Foundation black site sat buried deep within a mountain thirty kilometers from Davos. From the gravel road, it passed for a neglected ski lodge with boarded windows and rotting wood. Behind that shell lay a fortress of interrogation rooms.Julian Cross was slumped in a metal chair in the center of a windowless room, his wrists locked to a heavy table. A sling held his left arm tight against his chest while purple bruises darkened his jaw and cheek. A Foundation doctor had patched him up enough to talk, but the man was clearly holding back a scream with every breath he took.Derick walked in alone. He pulled out a chair and sat across from the prisoner.Cross looked up, his eyes like chips of ice. "Have you come here to gloat?""I came for information," Derick said. He kept his voice level and steady. "You are going to tell me what I need to know.""I am Ghost Protocol," Cross said with a dry, raspy voice. "We do not talk to people lik
The Davos Ambush
The main auditorium of the Davos Congress Centre was a sea of expensive suits and powerful faces. Three thousand people filled the rows. CEOs of Fortune 500 companies sat shoulder to shoulder with top government ministers and the heads of central banks. All around the place, journalists from every major news network adjusted their lenses and checked their feeds.Derick stood in the dim light behind the heavy stage curtains, waiting for his cue. He could hear his own breathing, steady and slow, while Jackson spoke directly into his ear through a tiny, hidden speaker."The facial recognition system is currently scanning every face in the building," Jackson said from the high-tech security room. "Our software is tracking how people move and how they shift in their seats. If anyone looks out of place or shows signs of a threat, we will see it before they even take a step.""How many people have we flagged?" Derick asked, his voice barely a whisper."W
Preparing the Trap
The following fourteen days vanished into a relentless cycle of logistics and tactical preparation. Jackson had transformed a secure hotel suite in Davos into a high-functioning command center. Digital displays lined the walls, casting a steady glow over personnel who had been working twenty-hour shifts to ensure every variable was controlled."Swiss intelligence has finalized their positions," Jackson said, his finger tracing the arteries of a digital map. "We have twenty-four officers stationed at every major entry and exit point of the town. No vehicle enters this valley without us knowing about it."Derick leaned over the map, his eyes scanning the terrain. "And what about our eyes inside the venue? Did Interpol come through?""Sixteen agents are already on the ground. They are fully integrated into the event staff. Some are carrying trays, others are checking press badges, and a few are working the security gates. If a single Ghost Protocol operative
Julian Cross
Later that night, back at the Foundation safe house, the air was thick with the smell of coffee. Jackson had spent twenty minutes on a secure phone with his old contacts in London. When he finally hung up, he looked at the group with a grim expression."Julian Cross is a real person," Jackson said. "My contacts found his file. He was one of the most decorated soldiers in British history. He has fifteen confirmed kills and did dozens of secret missions in Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan."Jackson opened his laptop and turned the screen around. A photo appeared of a man in his early forties. He had short hair, and a sharp jawline"In 2009, Cross led a team into Syria to find a weapons factory," Jackson explained. "He killed eleven people during that raid. Three of them were children. He tried to claim they were armed, but the evidence showed he had murdered civilians."Charlotte stared at the photo. Her voice was full of anger. "He killed children?"
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