Hidden — Strike

“You don’t understand. If we leave it, Rashidi’s hackers will find it within hours. The chip contains the master key. He doesn’t need us alive—just the chip.”

Under the earth, in total darkness, they swam. The crude oil clung to their skin like death. Lungs burned. Eyes stung. One of the engineers, a young man named Phelps, started to panic and thrash. Korr grabbed him, pressed his own regulator—the one from his emergency oxygen tank—into the man’s mouth. He shared the last of the air. Hidden Strike

“Rashidi wasn’t after the chip. He was after you. He knew you’d come. The engineers were bait. He wants the ghost. All of this was to confirm your location. He has a drone with a thermobaric warhead inbound on your last known position. You have four minutes. Run.” “You don’t understand

“American. I know you are here. I know you want the civilians. But you do not know what I have prepared for you. This refinery is not a battlefield. It is a trap. Every exit is mined. Every corridor is watched. You are not conducting a rescue. You are walking into my hidden strike.” He doesn’t need us alive—just the chip

He turned to Meier and said, “How fast can you turn that highway overpass into a shaped charge?”

“Singh, cut the main power feed to the refinery’s floodlights. Meier, rig the server room with a delayed charge. We’ll let Rashidi think we’re making a last stand. Then we go through the oil. We hold our breath, and we swim.”

Korr crawled out of the culvert, gasping, covered in black crude, and looked up at the stars. His team was alive. The engineers were alive. The hidden strike had failed.