Chapter - 328
The approach to the Warner Chateau was designed to make visitors feel small, poor, and vulnerable. The road wound up the side of the mountain like a scar, a single lane of asphalt bordered by sheer cliffs on one side and a thousand-foot drop on the other.
Rick drove the lead truck, his knuckles white on the wheel. He was back in the Henri mask, the sweat already pooling under the synthetic skin. Sharon sat beside him, scanning the ridge lines for snipers.
"Thermal scopes are clean," she muttered. "But I feel eyes. He's out there. The Huntsman."
"Let him watch," Rick said, his French accent automatic now. "He can't hit us here without burying the truck in an avalanche. He wants us inside."
They reached the Main Gate. It was a massive structure of steel and stone, guarded by two tanks. Actual tanks. Leopard 2A4s, painted winter white, their turrets tracking the truck as it approached.
"Subtle," Rick muttered.
