The old man answered calmly. “Yes.” Burke smiled again. “Then this can be simple.” He made a sharp motion with his hand.
Several armed men began spreading out along both sides of the road. They were taking positions. Metal glinted in the headlights.
“You get one chance to walk away from here,” Burke said. “What chance?” the old man asked without emotion. Burke nodded toward the dark woods.
“Head into those trees right now, and we leave you alone.” For a few seconds, there was complete silence. The old man looked at the road, then at the town.
Then he looked Burke in the eye again. “No.” The answer was short and final. Burke let out a quiet breath, as if he had expected it.
“That’s a shame,” he said with fake sympathy. He turned to his men. “Make it quick.” At that exact moment, the old man moved.
He stepped back into the yard and pulled a flash-bang from the bag. Burke understood instantly. “Careful!” he shouted.
But it was already too late. The old man threw the grenade over the fence. It landed in the road between the vehicles.
The blast ripped through the night. A blinding flash lit up the whole street. Burke’s men scattered in panic.
The old man didn’t waste a second. He began throwing more flash-bangs in quick succession. He didn’t shout. He didn’t rush.
Every throw was measured and exact. Thick smoke swallowed the road. Burke’s men were blinded and disoriented.
They dropped to the ground, hands over their ears against the ringing. None of them could organize any kind of response. The road was pure chaos.
And using the smoke for cover, the old man came out through the gate. He moved through them methodically, disarming one stunned man after another. He pulled weapons from weakened hands and tossed them aside…
