Daemon

see the top of a flight of steps leading downward. A barred gate blocked his path. They were stainless steel bars, like the kind found on the inner door of a bank vault. A numeric keypad was set into the steel strike plate.
    The voice spoke, this time right behind Merritt’s head. ‘Dave, Stop. Stop, Dave.’
    ‘Fuck off, Sobol.’ Merritt concentrated on the keypad in the strike plate. He was no security specialist, and he knew it was probably booby-trapped. He aimed the shotgun at an angle and squeezed off a Hatton round into the strike plate. The lead and wax slug disintegrated into a pall of smoke. Merritt waved it away and looked at the strike plate. The keypad was entirely gone – leaving behind only a small round hole where its electronics entered the steel gate mechanism. Otherwise the strike plate was undamaged. Hot lead was useless against it.
    Merritt unholstered his second P14 pistol. He’d give hot copper a try. Merritt aimed at the strike plate, then fired repeatedly at the same spot. Bullet holes appeared in the far wall as they ricocheted. After the last shot, he inspected the damage. Fourteen shots and he had successfully dulled the finish – barely.
    Merritt sank down to lean his back against the wall. Waucheuer and the others had been carrying the heavy-duty breaching kit – the cutting charges and boosters. All Merritt had was a roll of strip explosives, and that wouldn’t take out this steel gate.
    Sobol’s voice was right there with him. ‘Does it help to know that there’s nothing important here?’
    Merritt looked down into the watery pit. He examined its walls. They were of brick painted with thick black marine paint. The pit was on the same level as the rest of the cellar – and presumably the server room.
    Merritt holstered his pistol and took the remaining grenades from his web harness. He had four flash-bang grenades left. He took the roll of Primasheet and det cord from his thigh pocket and wrapped them tightly around the grenades. Then he stood, straddling the corner of the pit. He dropped the package into the water, reeling out detonator cord as it fell. Then he ducked around the corner and activated the detonator.
    The muffled blast shot a geyser of water into the ceiling. The floor trembled for a few moments. Merritt soon heard the sound of water rushing through an opening. He had cracked the brick wall.
    He came back to the edge of the pit and could see water draining through the wall and into the server room.
    A klaxon suddenly sounded in the house, and fire strobes flickered on the ceiling. A British female voice spoke on a regular PA system, ‘Primary data center penetrated. Commencing self-destruct sequence.’ There was a pause. ‘And there is no countdown.’
    ‘Shit!’ Merritt knew the front door was around the corner and down the front hall. He sprinted around the corner as a piercing beep filled the house. It was like a smoke detector on steroids – drilling into his brain.
    The sprinkler caps popped off in the ceiling above him, and sprinkler heads clicked down. He heard the hiss of pressure building up. Merritt looked ahead. The front door of the mansion still stood wide open about a hundred feet ahead – wedged open by that blessed bomb squad team. He sprinted for the opening with everything he had.
    The sprinkler heads came to life, spraying gasoline over the stylish décor. He was still sixty feet from the front door when he saw a bright halogen bulb start to burn intensely up near the ceiling in the foyer. The light grew so intense that Merritt couldn’t look directly at it.
    When the bulb exploded – sending a wall of flame roaring toward him – Merritt’s brain trotted forward a candidate for his last mortal thought:
    I’ll never see my daughters grow up
.
    Without warning, the floor gave way beneath him as he ran. A pit trap swallowed him. He fell into blackness, chased by flames that lit up the brackish water. Time slowed down, and Merritt had the leisure to consider what a bastard Sobol was; he’d activated a pit trap after letting the bomb disposal robot drive down the hallway safely.
    The devious bastard
.
    Merritt hit the water face-first and blacked out as the trapdoor snapped shut above him.
    Among the agents surrounding the mansion a shout went up. It was quickly followed by hundreds of other voices shouting. Sobol’s mansion was now glowing orange. Then flames burst out through literally all of its windows. In seconds the entire