"Keller, check the front windows. I'll call-"
"First priority is securing this door!" a voice screamed from the front of the hallway, and Claire appeared from the conference room doorway.
She held two weapons, a semi-automatic shotgun fitted with an ammunition drum, and an MP-5 submachine gun. She tossed the MP-5 and two spare magazines at Keller, who was already sprinting toward the door leading to the stairway. Berg followed in disbelief, and they all heard a buzzing sound.
"Help me with the door!" she screamed, just as Berg was knocked off his feet by another blast.
The grenade sailed up the staircase in a perfect trajectory and detonated less than one foot from the door. The "special" was a unique device used to achieve maximum distraction and confusion during a hostage rescue operation. It would first send a concussive shockwave in every direction, followed immediately by a two millisecond delayed flash of blinding light. All of this was topped off by a controversial third stage. A small white phosphorous charge simultaneously exploded with the flash, sending specks of smoldering material in a spectacular shower throughout a fifteen foot radius. The pieces of white phosphorous were no larger than a grain of rice, but they ignited whatever they touched, and even the most steadfast opponent couldn't ignore the fact that they were on fire.
In this case, the shock wave created by the initial blast flung the door wide open, knocking Keller flat on his back and saving him from a direct shower of white phosphorus. Still, he caught fire in several places, mainly his trousers and shoes. Blinded by the flash, he was temporarily unaware that his Brooks Brothers suit had ignited.
Claire was jammed back against the conference room doorframe, but was spared the effects of the flash and white phosphorous that had been funneled straight through the open door. She quickly regained her senses and leveled the shotgun at the opening, preparing herself to open fire down the staircase at the slightest sound.
Berg remained lying on the floor, stunned by the blinding flash and concussion. Still far enough away from the door when the grenade exploded, he didn't get hit with any of the burning fragments. Hazy vision returned, and he saw the open doorway to the stairwell, which caused him to panic and scramble out of sight into the kitchen doorway. He barely had time to register Keller's body directly in front of the burning door frame, but it was long enough for him to realize he'd have to go back out there immediately. Keller had caught fire.
A shower of smoking fragments hit the bottom of the staircase a few feet from Daniel Petrovich. Some bounced off the walls and bannister, hissing, while others adhered to whatever they hit. Regardless of how the pieces of white phosphorous behaved in those first few seconds, without fail, they all set fire to their final resting place. Daniel rounded the corner of the burning bannister, leveling the MP-9 toward the open door at the top of the staircase, aiming down the sight as he took the stairs in a rapid, controlled manner. He kept his focus on the hazy opening and any threat that might appear as he mounted the stairs. If he had glanced around, or expanded his field of vision, he might have been slightly unnerved to realize that the entire staircase was tightly sprinkled with over a hundred tiny, dancing fires. Growing fires. For now, all he registered was a growing sensation of heat.
He’d reached a point halfway up the stairs when he heard a female voice yell a command.
"Get Keller out of there! I'll cover the staircase."
He processed the possibilities, and continued up the stairs. Anyone who appeared at the top of the stairs would be killed immediately. Barely a second after he heard the brusque voice, he saw a shotgun barrel appear from the right side of the door. By the orientation of the gun, he could tell that it was braced straight against someone's shoulder, and that their head should appear…now. Through the thickening smoke, he saw the faintest trace of a head appear at the door frame, and fired a quick, tightly aimed burst where he knew the rest of the head would emerge within a fraction of a second.
Claire watched Berg sprint over to Keller, and decided it was time to earn the paycheck she had been collecting for nearly twenty years. She wasn't afraid to face down the enemy at the bottom of the stairs, but she did have some concern that another grenade like the last one might explode in her face. She could see Keller's clothes starting to catch fire, and could not imagine the horror of taking a burst of those fragments to her face. Because of this trepidation, and the fact that at 53 years of age, she didn't move as fast as she did as a field agent in her thirties, she hesitated at the doorway, and it saved her life.
She heard a sudden snap as she started to move into the doorway, and the wooden frame directly in front of her face splintered. She knew what had happened before the bullets' sonic trail slightly changed the air pressure around her eye cavities, and their loud crack penetrated her ear drums. One of the bullets had missed hitting the far side of her face by less than three millimeters. Though the threat of these bullets had long passed, Claire reacted instinctively and pulled her body back. Still, she persisted in her mission, and forced the shotgun around the corner, squeezing the trigger until she thought her hand might break. Eight deafening blasts roared into the opening.
Daniel knew he had miscalculated the burst as soon as he had fired, when the woman's head didn't fully materialize. He actually hadn't miscalculated. If the head had followed at the same speed of the shotgun, he would be able to charge the top of the stairs unopposed. Instead, he saw two hands jam the shotgun into the doorway opening, which meant immediate trouble. He lurched backward, and managed to throw himself through the burning bannister, crashing down on top of a smoldering antique table and chair. He didn't hear the bones crack, but knew he broke two lower ribs, and damaged his left knee considerably upon impact with the furniture. He felt no immediate pain, but the knee almost failed as he stood up and grabbed the MP-9 from under the desk.
Farrington crouched in the vestibule and assessed the situation. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and black turtleneck sweater, and held a shortened M-4 assault carbine fitted with a red-dot sighting system. He looked deadly serious, and well-practiced in this type of work, though Daniel doubted the man had ever kicked a door down in his life.
"Need help?" said Farrington, aiming his rifle up the stairs.
"Negative. Keep an eye outside," he replied.
"Out in sixty seconds," said Farrington, and Daniel realized he would have to escalate his use of force to get the job done.
He took two grenades out of his pouch, and walked over to the staircase. One was a "special' and the other had a smooth, round surface. Daniel was done fucking around with this situation. He laid the submachine gun on the first step, and pulled the pin on both grenades. He sailed the M67 frag grenade through the now impenetrable smoke and heard it hit the floor somewhere beyond the door, followed by panicked screams. He'd add the "special" to their misery as soon as the frag detonated.
Claire's shotgun heroics bought the CIA agents fifteen seconds to regroup and get Keller out of the hallway, where he was certain to be killed. Berg pulled Keller back to the kitchen entrance and started to rip the burning pants from his body, but Keller had regained his senses enough to continue himself. Berg turned his attention back to the burning doorway and leveled the German made MP-5 submachine gun against the kitchen doorframe, tucking his exposed elbow tight against his body, and shifting his head as far behind the frame as possible while still sighting down the barrel of the gun. He presented little for his attacker to hit, and braced himself for the inevitable assault. Just as he settled into the frame, a grenade hit the hardwood floor in the hallway, and rolled toward Berg.