Even the toughest soldier in the world couldn't withstand that, and the attacker instantly dropped his weapon and grabbed the wounds in a vain attempt to stop the gushing blood.
The man nearest him held his gun out and unleashed a volley of suppression fire that sent Sean back around the corner of the desk. The shooter grabbed his comrade by the collar and pulled him back around the edge of the doorway and out of sight.
Sean knew the element of surprise was gone. If he appeared around any edge of the desk, they would cut him down.
"Cease fire," McClain ordered over the suppressed pops of the SEALs' weapons. In the confusion, the admiral had darted for cover behind the wall. Now it sounded like he was back in the room. The smell of gun smoke filled everyone's nostrils as the bluish haze lingered in the room.
"Very well, Sean. Bullets would have been a better way to go. No easy way out for you." McClain turned his attention to the three men still in the fight. "Light 'em up."
Sean couldn't see what they were doing, but a sinking feeling rose up from his stomach to his throat like an avalanche of anxiety.
He heard a faint sound of metal on metal and knew exactly what they were doing. A few feet shuffled away, and then a metal canister hit the wall next to his feet. Incendiary grenades. He jerked toward the wall, pushing with his hands, and swung his foot at the object. He struck it hard and sent the thing rattling around the octagonal room until it had stopped rolling on the side. Sean instinctively wrapped his arms around Irena in the instant the grenade exploded in a searing blaze of orange heat. The sound of another canister hitting the front of the desk was the next thing they heard, followed quickly by another explosion. A few bits of hot shrapnel shot into the wall, narrowly missing Sean and the older woman as they crouched under cover.
The wall full of books to Sean's left raged in flaming fury, the old pages and covers fueling the fire. Orange and yellow tongues lapped angrily at the higher shelves until they reached the cone-shaped roof. The fire spread rapidly, and soon Sean and Irena would be completely engulfed.
He looked over the top of the desk, but a wall of hot flames was between them and the doorway. No way to get out in that direction. His eyes shot over to the huge windows. If he could use the chair to shatter the glass, they could jump down. Then he remembered the windows were on a point, sitting atop cliffs on every side. He cursed himself for getting trapped.
Smoke trickled into his lungs, burning his throat on the way down, and he crouched down to get back to the clearer air. "Is there another way out of here?" he asked, not expecting her to have an answer he wanted to hear.
She nodded in spite of the fear on her face. She pointed to the painting in the middle of the wall. "Tilt it to the right," she said, coughing.
Sean didn't wait for her to clarify. He stood up and tugged on the painting's bottom right corner. Apparently, it wasn't hung like a normal painting. It gave heavy resistance to Sean's first effort, which caused him to pull harder the second try. This time, it gave way, and the picture turned slowly like a heavy wheel. The low grinding of metal on metal blended with the sounds of the inferno consuming the study before a loud click came from the panel on his left. It eased backward on a hinge, revealing a hidden passageway.
He turned back to Irena, who was on her hands and knees, trying to keep out of the smoke. He reached for her hand to help her up and gripped it firmly, using his weight to easily lift her from the floor. He shoved her through the opening, stepped back to the desk, using his forearm to shield the searing heat, grabbed the extra magazine for the .22, and hurried after her. Once inside, he shoved the back of the bookshelf door closed to keep the smoke from entering the passageway.
The narrow corridor was made from stone, matching the rest of the house. A dim lightbulb protruding from the wall illuminated their descent. Irena led the way down into the darkness. The roar of the fire became a muffled rumble.
"When were you going to tell me about this?" Sean asked, as he carefully navigated the damp steps.
"I didn't think it had anything to do with what you were looking for," she said. After she spoke, Irena was racked by another fit of coughing and had to slow down for a moment.
"You all right?" he asked, putting his hand on her back.
"I'm fine."
The two continued wrapping their way down the spiral staircase until Sean realized they had gone much farther than just two stories. "Shouldn't we have come out somewhere on the main level already?" he asked, curious as to where they were headed.
She shook her head, passing another yellowish lightbulb. "This passage doesn't come out anywhere near the house. It was designed to be an escape tunnel."
"Your father was worried he would need to get away quickly?"
"No," she answered. "This corridor was built much earlier than that. It goes back to the nineteenth century, built by one of the original families that owned it. Obviously, the lights are not that old. Father had them put in to replace the torches. He used to bring me down here when I was younger. I imagined I was a princess trying to escape attacking marauders, fleeing my castle to safety. I have no idea why the original builders felt like they needed an escape tunnel."
"I'm glad they did." Sean's matter of fact response was reaffirmed by a nod from Irena. "Where does this come out?"
"It merges with a natural cave not far from here. That cave comes out on the coast, not far from the bay."
Sean tried to recall seeing a cave entrance on his way in, but he'd been focused on other things. The two continued their downward spiral for another five minutes, going deeper into the small mountain. The stones that matched the mansion had ceased once they were beyond the second story level, turning into rock that was hewn from the earth, chiseled away by years of patient work or perhaps some nineteenth-century machinery. The wires running along the wall from light to light were covered in cobwebs, showing how long they'd been sitting, fixed to the wall.
A cold draft of salty air shot up through the passage and grew stronger as they kept moving. Irena looked back. "Air from the ocean. We're almost there."
Sixty seconds later, she stopped at a hole in the middle of the staircase. The steps ended abruptly and opened up. If he'd been hurrying and not paying attention, Sean could have easily fallen through. Down below, they could see light pouring into a cave and onto the sandy floor. The drop down was only eight feet, which wouldn't be a problem for Sean, but he was immediately concerned about Irena.
The older woman systematically undid the straps to her shoes and removed them. Clutching them in one hand, she crouched down low.
"Irena, let me go first, and I'll catch…"
Before Sean could finish his sentence, the woman dropped through the cavity and down to the sand below. She landed on her feet and rolled to the side as if she'd done the maneuver a thousand times. She stood back up and dusted herself off, then looked back up at Sean. "Come on. We don't want to stand here and freeze to death," Irena beckoned.
Sean grinned and shook his head. He crouched down low and let himself drop through the opening. He hit the sand a little harder than expected, but was able to keep his balance and stay on his feet.
Irena motioned for him to follow and led the way to the cave's mouth. The ocean's waves rolled constantly to the shore, churning up white foam in the dark-blue water. Off to the left was the pier where Dothan's seaplane was tethered. Left of that was the red shack standing close to the cliff wall. White plumes of smoke wafted out of the chimney and blew away, disappearing almost instantly in the vigorous ocean breeze.