Stewart Norris attempted to open the door leading to the roof. It was locked.

“We’re trapped,” an engineer said.

Norris looked in the direction of the voice. The engineer looked like he was in high school. He had a frightened look that Norris knew well.

“We have other options,” Norris said as he removed his pack.

Voices were ascending to their location. Norris removed his sidearm and thrust it into the hands of a nearby engineer.

“I need to prep the door, shoot anyone who interrupts us,” he said.

“I would do it, kid, but my arm is messed up,” Nigel told the engineer.

The engineer looked frightened, but Norris ignored the look and focused his attention on his pack. He removed a brick of clay wrapped in plastic. He untangled some wires with some clips and buried them into the brick. Then he peeled something off the other side of the brick and shoved the brick against the door near the lock. Next, he unwrapped the wires and strung them from the door to a safe location in the stairwell.

“They are here!” the engineer’s voice said in a shrill tone.

The kid held the gun toward the ascending men, who held automatic-looking weapons. Norris grabbed the gun, then shot the closet man in the face. Two other men retreated. He shot toward them, then holstered the weapon when he was sure they were gone. He ascended the half-flight of stairs that led to his pack.

“Keep you heads down,” Norris said.

Norris grabbed a black box with two metal posts with oversized knobs. He loosened the knobs enough to wrap the wires around the posts. After he tightened the screws, he looked around. More men were ascending to their location.

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It’s now or never, Stew, he told himself.

“Get your heads down,” Norris yelled.

The group of young engineers obeyed.

He huddled against Nigel and the frightened kids who had braved one of the most secure facilities in the United States, then pressed the button. The noise was deafening. Norris looked up to see a missing door; part of the wall was missing, as well.

I guess I used too much explosive.

“Move!” Norris shouted.

The group of young engineers rushed past, heading toward the smoking doorframe. Norris grabbed the automatic weapon his victim had dropped. The men kept coming, and this time they were carrying shields. Norris started shooting anyway. One of the bullets ricocheted off one of the shields and hit one of his legs. White-hot pain stung his shin; he could still move it, so his shielded boots must have absorbed some damage. Two of the shielded men were mere feet away. They were awkwardly trying to hold their shields and weapons as they climbed the stairs. Then Norris flung himself at the men, both of whom fell on their backs. He flung away their shields, unsheathed his knife, and then started stabbing the men. He didn’t know how many times he’d stabbed them, but the wall and floor were spattered with blood. He snapped out of it when he heard one of the kids scream something.

“The helicopter is here!”

It took Norris longer than normal to climb to the blown door. Pain shot through his leg as he moved it. The engineers were ascending a ladder attached to the helicopter.

I didn’t know the Dark Angels had a Blackhawk.

The massive satellite dishes on the roof prevented the helicopter from getting any closer. Behind them, a small group of men filed out of the blown doorframe and started shooting at the helicopter as Norris made it to the ladder. He freed a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and then threw the explosive in an arc that seemed to be too high.

I hope I calculated correctly—

“Argh,” Norris screamed as bullets peppered his armor. It was if someone was hitting him with a hammer.

Moments later, the grenade exploded just above the men’s heads. Body parts and gore splattered the area where the guards had been. Norris hung on as the chopper moved away from the building. Seconds later they were flying over the East River. Norris barely made it to the interior of the chopper as it accelerated quickly into the fall evening air.