Wyatt took position, his back to hers. The alarm alone wouldn’t be enough. The guards might ignore it as a false trigger or the sensors malfunctioning in the storm.
We need a visible threat.
His gaze landed on the valve controls for the fuel lines.
Perfect.
He holstered his handgun and spun one, letting diesel flood the deck. The liquid pooled, its sharp smell cutting through the arctic air. He grabbed a signal flare from the emergency kit mounted nearby. Its magnesium core would be hot enough to ignite the diesel.
“I’m done.” Caro stepped back from the keyboard. Her hand hovered over the alarm trigger.
“Now,” he said.
Caro hit the alarm.
The klaxon screamed. A sound designed to cut through machinery noise, and human instinct to ignore warnings. Lights flashed brilliant red along the depot perimeter. The fire suppression system activated—spray nozzles erupting with white foam, pressure valves releasing with hissing roars.
A guard rounded the tank, gun raised.
The suppression system discharged overhead.
White foam blasted down in a roaring curtain, coating the deck, the guard’s face, his weapon. He shouted in surprise, boots skidding as foam turned the steel lethal.
Wyatt dropped the flare and lunged, driving the guard backward into the ladder rungs welded to the tank. He shoved the man up against the valve wheel, jamming it against the guard’s chest, pinning him in place long enough to strip his weapon free.
One sharp strike behind the ear and the guard went slack.
Wyatt eased him down as the smoke thickened.
He snatched the flare, struck it, and tossed it into the pooled diesel.
For a split second, nothing happened.
Then the fuel ignited.
The fire didn’t behave.
Yes.
Flames spread fast across the deck—bright orange against gray storm. Seconds later, the suppression foam hit the diesel, killing the flames. Black smoke rose in a thick, oily funnel.
Even more impressive than he’d hoped.
Shouts and barked orders erupted from the direction of the crane.
Wyatt grabbed Caro’s hand. “With me.”
They sprinted as one, taking the long route back, skirting the platform’s perimeter to avoid the guards.
Halfway round, the seal on his thigh gave way, fresh blood running warm down his leg. He ignored it, pulling Caro along when she faltered. Finally, they reached their original position behind the storage containers and dropped down, breathing hard.
Four guards were gone. Two had remained with the hostages.
Manageable odds. Not great ones. There were still vulnerable hostages sitting between him and the targets. He couldn’t risk any shots yet.
There was a better way.
“Stay here.” He pointed to an interior access door thirty feet from where the hostages sat. “When I signal, open that door. Hostages will run for it. Guide them through.”
