Chapter 6: The Berlin Gambit
The walls trembled as the explosion ripped through the bunker above. Dust rained down, the air thick with the acrid stench of burning metal and concrete. Hawke moved fast, grabbing Vega’s arm and pulling her toward the corridor.
“Move!” he barked.
Behind them, flames licked the tunnel entrance, swallowing what remained of the room where they had found Nikolai Grevich’s lifeless body. Whoever set the charges wasn’t just covering their tracks—they wanted to bury them alive.
Escape Under Fire
Hawke led the way through the underground labyrinth, dodging falling debris as Vega covered their six. The emergency lights flickered, casting shadows that danced like ghosts along the walls.
“We need another way out,” Vega said between ragged breaths.
Hawke scanned the area, then spotted an old ventilation shaft ahead. He rushed forward, gripping the rusted edges of the grating before wrenching it free.
“Inside, now.”
Vega climbed in first, sliding through the narrow tunnel. Hawke followed, dragging the grate back in place just as the tunnel behind them collapsed in a thunderous roar.
For a moment, all was silent—except for the rapid pounding of their hearts.
Then, Vega’s voice cut through the dark. “That was close.”
Hawke exhaled, steadying himself. “Too close.”
They crawled forward until the shaft opened up into an abandoned train depot—a forgotten station hidden beneath the forest floor. The air was damp, thick with the scent of mildew and rust.
Vega peered through the shadows. “We’re not out of this yet.”
Hawke followed her gaze. Across the platform, a black SUV idled near an exit tunnel.
And beside it, four men armed with submachine guns.
A Quick Exit
“We take them quietly,” Hawke murmured.
Vega nodded. “I’ll flank left.”
Hawke crept forward, sticking to the shadows. One of the men broke off from the group, lighting a cigarette near an old bench. Hawke seized the opportunity.
In one swift motion, he emerged from the darkness, wrapped an arm around the man’s throat, and silenced him before he could make a sound.
Vega struck next, a blade flashing in the dim light as she took down the second guard.
The remaining two noticed too late. Hawke raised his pistol, two suppressed shots cutting through the stillness.
Bodies hit the floor. The SUV was theirs.
Hawke grabbed the driver’s seat, revving the engine. “Let’s go.”
Vega slid into the passenger side, already loading a fresh magazine into her weapon. “Berlin?”
Hawke nodded, gripping the wheel. “Berlin.”
Touchdown in Berlin
The city unfolded beneath them as their plane descended into Berlin Brandenburg Airport. Neon lights flickered in the distance, the glow of the city stretching far into the night.
Hawke adjusted the cuff of his jacket, his eyes scanning the runway. “No welcoming committee. That’s a good sign.”
Vega scoffed. “Or a bad one.”
They exited through a private hangar, where a contact was waiting—Karl Richter, an old MI6 operative with deep roots in Berlin’s underworld.
Richter smirked as they approached. “You two always seem to land in trouble.”
Hawke shook his hand. “And you always seem to know about it.”
Richter led them to a black Mercedes, passing them a manila envelope. “The second cipher—Keller’s last message—was traced to a storage facility in Mitte. But you’re not the only ones looking for it.”
Hawke opened the envelope. Inside was a surveillance photo of a woman.
Vega frowned. “Who’s she?”
Richter exhaled. “Celeste Moreau. Former French intelligence. Now freelance.”
Hawke studied the photo. Moreau’s sharp green eyes were unmistakable, even in grainy black-and-white. He had crossed paths with her before—a deadly strategist, always two steps ahead.
“If Moreau is involved,” he muttered, “this just got a lot more complicated.”
Richter nodded. “And one more thing—Scorpio Division has boots on the ground. You don’t have much time.”
Hawke pocketed the envelope. “Then we move now.”
The Race for the Cipher
They arrived at the Mitte storage facility under the cover of darkness. The warehouse loomed ahead, a concrete fortress lined with security cameras and reinforced steel doors.
Vega scoped the perimeter. “Looks quiet.”
Hawke wasn’t convinced. It was never this easy.
They approached the entrance, bypassing the lock with a hijacked security code. The door slid open with a low hiss, revealing a dimly lit corridor lined with storage units.
“Unit 47C,” Hawke murmured.
They moved in silence, weapons drawn. The air was thick with tension, every step echoing against the cold concrete floor.
Then, from the shadows—a flicker of movement.
Hawke turned, but it was too late.
A blade pressed against his throat. A whisper in his ear.
“Too slow, Hawke.”
Celeste Moreau.
Vega pivoted, raising her weapon—only to find three more guns aimed at her.
Moreau smirked, stepping back just enough to lower her knife. She tilted her head, eyes dancing with amusement. “You always did have good instincts. Just not good enough.”
Hawke clenched his jaw. “I assume you’re after the cipher.”
Moreau’s smirk widened. “And I assume you found it first.”
Hawke didn’t answer. She knew the truth just by looking at him.
Moreau nodded. “Good. Then let’s make a deal.”
Vega tensed. “We don’t make deals.”
Moreau raised a brow. “Then you’ll die here.”
Hawke studied her for a moment. He knew Moreau well enough—she didn’t bluff.
Finally, he exhaled. “What do you want?”
Moreau’s smile returned. “Simple. The cipher belongs to me.”
She extended her hand. “And in return? I’ll let you live.”
The tension hung thick in the air. Hawke’s mind raced.
Then, from outside—the sudden roar of approaching vehicles.
Moreau cursed, stepping back.
Scorpio Division had arrived.
The Enemy of My Enemy…
The warehouse flooded with the sound of screeching tires and boots hitting pavement. A dozen men in tactical gear stormed toward the entrance, automatic rifles at the ready.
Moreau glanced at Hawke. “Seems we have a common problem.”
Hawke’s grip tightened around his pistol. “Looks that way.”
Moreau smirked. “Then let’s survive first.”
Hawke exchanged a look with Vega.
Then he turned back to Moreau and cocked his gun.
“Try to keep up.”
