by James Hunt
Sarah took a few practice wriggles, the fabric of her jacket and pants scraping harshly against the tight space. “Time to get my Shawshank Redemption on.” Sarah crawled up to the edge of the first tubing section, the lights of the infrared scanners glowing against the tube walls. “Ready when you are.”
“On my mark,” Bryce said. “Three. Two. One. Go!”
The beams disappeared, and the clock on Sarah’s arm counted down. She erupted into a flurry of elbows and knees smacking against the sides of the tunnels. The light from the headband bounced around the circular tube with every movement, and more than once she felt her hair pull out from her head against the grainy concrete.
“Ten seconds,” Bryce said. “Move it, Sarah!”
She could see the cross-section of the tubes ahead and the rushing flow of coolant meant to burn her then drown her then crush her into nothing. Her muscles burned from the movement, from the confinement, from the mounting pressure of not making it through to the next checkpoint.
The scanners in the next section of tubing disappeared as she crossed the threshold. One final push, and the bottom of her left foot just escaped the beam of infrared light that flicked back on. “ARGH!” Sarah panted, continuing her push forward, the padded joints of her knees and elbows already aching.
The clock on her arm restarted and quickly ticked down past twenty seconds as Sarah continued the frantic pace. The rushing sounds of water and air from the surrounding tubes echoed through the ground. It was like Sarah was in the eye of the storm, and as long as she stayed in the center, she was protected from the whirling winds behind the wall.
Another section came and went. Then another, and another, and another. Each time, the clock restarted, and with it the race against time for her life. Residue from the diverted coolant when Bryce continued to clear paths for her lingered and eroded the Kevlar fabric, filling the compacted tubes with a burning scent. After a few dozen sections, she started to feel the sting on her skin.
“I guess this takes feeling the burn to a whole new level,” Sarah said, her face beet red, sweat pouring down her cheeks, and a fast twitch at the corners of her mouth that fought to muffle the screams she wanted to let escape. But she didn’t. She kept it all in. She just pressed forward.
“C’mon, Sarah, you can do it! You’re over halfway there.”
With her knees and elbows growing numb, Sarah wasn’t sure if it was from adrenaline or the fact that the corrosive coolant had eaten away at what nerve endings were left. But she didn’t focus on that. She just kept the picture of Vince in her mind. And the satisfaction of finally catching him.
“Just six more, Sarah!”
Sarah gritted her teeth and increased her speed. The display on her arm flashed when the clock dwindled below five seconds, and each time the display blinked, she saw herself farther away from the next section than the previous one.
“God damn it, Sarah, move!”
“ARRGH!” It was nothing but sheer will pushing her forward now. With nearly five hundred yards behind her, she could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Her movements grew more violent near the end. She clawed, pushed, and scraped against the tunnel’s sides, never stopping, never taking a break, never quitting.
“Five seconds!”
The tunnels felt like they were collapsing in on her, and for a moment, Sarah thought she’d missed the mark, but the display still flashed. The exit was within in arm’s reach now. Her hand broke through the final barrier. She caught a glimpse of the display on her arm flashing three seconds. Her second hand broke through the tunnel’s end, and with one final pull, she thrust herself out of the tube and smacked onto tile, the infrared lights flipping back on just as the sole of her boot left the tunnel.
Sarah ripped the jacket off of her, portions of the sleeves and front still burning from the acid. She flung it to the side and sprawled out on the cool tile, limbs extended like a starfish. She raised her fists in the air, blood running down her arms from her elbows, the air stinging the exposed wounds. “Suck it, tubes!” Her arms collapsed to her sides, and her chest heaved up and down with the large gulps of breath she took.
“Okay, so we only have five more minutes until the sequence starts up again, so I don’t mean to sound like an ass, but we need to make this quick,” Bryce said.
Sarah rolled to her side and pushed herself up. “You always sound like an ass.” Her knees screamed when she took her first step forward and buckled from the applied weight. She caught herself on one of the servers for support.
Six rows of servers covered most of the floor, all of them blinking with lights and intertwined with colored wires. Each row was separated by a small sliver of space that Sarah stepped between, but it still didn’t come close to the claustrophobic nature of the tubes. She squeezed through the narrow walkway and emerged on the other side at the large black door of the vault. “All right. I’m here.”
“There should be a computer port where the door handle would be. Do you see it?”
“Yeah.” Sarah fished out the thumb drive that Bryce had given her and inserted the drive into the port. A red light flashed over the port, and after a few seconds, it turned a solid green, the door swinging open.
Inside, the walls were lined with glass compartments that stretched from floor to ceiling, allowing anyone to see the contents and giving the illusion that the computer chips floated in mid-air in front of the walls of concrete behind them. The floor was comprised of snow-white tile. The combination of lights and glass made the room painfully bright. “So which one is it?” Sarah asked.
“Each of the computer chips should have a serial number located in the bottom right-hand corner. You want to find the one that reads E-U-6928709238.”
Sarah did a quick scan and found the chip at the bottom row on the very back wall. She removed the laser cutter and sliced open the case. Taking care to not damage the chip itself, she placed the palm-sized chip in one of the secure compartments of her belt. “I’d like to say I’m excited about getting the hell out of here, but that would mean being stoked about sliding through those concrete vaginas. Which, for the record, I am not excited about.” She plucked the thumb drive she’d used to enter the vault from the port and stuffed it into her pocket.
“We still have a few minutes, so I don’t know what you need to do in order to psych yourself up again,” Bryce said. “Need me to bring up Pac-Man?”
“No. I won’t ruin the majestic aura of Pac-Man with my bad mood.” Sarah clapped her hands to punctuate a feigned enthusiasm, and when her hands made contact, the white halogen lights in the server room suddenly flashed blood red, darkening the room, and the steady hum of the servers themselves disappeared. Sarah looked at her palms. “Was that me, orrrr…?”
“The security program was tripped,” Bryce answered. “Shit. The tubes are on lockdown. The guards are heading your way.”
Sarah glanced to the elevator doors, the hum of the elevator descending on the other side. She scooped her jacket off the ground and slipped it on. Then she removed her Colts, ducking between two of the server rows. “How many guards do they keep on duty here?”
“No less than twenty.”
“Great.” The light above the elevator pinged and lit up. Sarah exchanged her .45 ammunition magazines for ones filled with rubber bullets. She didn’t have any intention of killing people who were just doing their job. She wasn’t devoid of all manners.
The elevator doors slid open, and eight guards, all dressed in tactical gear, rushed the server floor. Drawing first, Sarah fired three shots into the first two guards that catapulted them backward into their own men before quickly ducking between the servers for cover.
Return gunfire was volleyed back, destroying the sophisticated hardware that Sarah remained behind. The space between the servers kept her flush against the devices, and she shimmied to the other end of the server row. She crouched and raised both pistols, her elbows still groaning from the abuse they’d taken in the tunnels. She closed her eyes,
both fingers on the trigger, waiting. Listening.
The hurried footsteps that smacked the floor in rapid succession told her they were clustered together, and they’d split themselves evenly on each side of the room. The steps grew louder. Sarah’s muscles tensed, but the pistols remained as calm and steady as still water.
The moment the footsteps finally reached the row of servers Sarah hid behind she squeezed both triggers. The bullet to her left smacked into the guard’s helmet and knocked him off his feet. The bullet fired to the right smacked into the lead guard’s chest and tumbled him backward into his men.
Sarah spun from behind the servers and sprinted toward the elevator doors. Bullets penetrated the circuitry encased in plastic that she passed on her right, some of the shots triggering sparks to fly from contact. “Open the elevators, Bryce!”
“On it!”
Gunfire continued to echo, and Sarah watched the elevator doors slide open. She jumped inside then spun to the side, smacking the Close Door button. Heavy boots thumped against the tile and drew closer, the tip of a boot coming into view just as the elevator doors closed.
Sarah leaned back against the wall, letting out a sigh of relief during the brief moment of reprieve. “So much for your twenty guards.”
“Sarah, there’s—”
“You know, for someone who prides themselves on data and being accurate, you were waaaay off.”
“Sarah—”
“I should have just skipped those stupid tunnels and gone through the front door. I mean, all I had to do was wear a mask, disable the mall police on the first floor, and take a ride downstairs.”
Bryce’s voice went deadpan. “Sarah, there are twenty more guards waiting for you on the first floor.”
The elevator pinged and came to a stop. When the doors separated, each of the twenty armed guards had a rifle, his finger on the trigger, aimed at Sarah. For a second, no one moved, and Sarah slowly reached her hand for the Close Door button, whispering out of the corner of her mouth without moving her lips. “Bryce, take me back down.”
One of the guards took a step forward, separating himself from the group but keeping his rifle trained on her like the other nineteen. “Step out of the elevator and put your hands in the air. Now!”
Sarah frantically pushed the Close Door button. “This is definitely not the sporting goods section.”
“Fire!”
Sarah spun to the side, the hail of bullets ripping through the open doors, turning the back wall of the elevator into Swiss cheese. Slowly, the doors closed, but she still felt every vibration from the gunfire being unloaded into the elevator shaft.
The ride stopped after a few feet, and Sarah was lodged between the two floors with groups of guards above and below her. Bryce let out a sigh. “Okay, I can keep it still for now, but I don’t know for how much longer,” Bryce said.
Sarah brushed some of the elevator debris from her pant leg, examining what remained of the rear wall. “Any way I can jimmy the top open?” She glanced up, not seeing any emergency panel.
“No, you’re basically in a steel box of death.”
“Perfect.” Sarah paced the elevator in a tight circle, psyching herself up, inhaling deep breaths and jumping up and down. “Here we go, Hill. Here we go.”
As if sensing her plan, Bryce spoke slowly into her ear, trying to ease her off the ledge. “Sarah, there are twenty guards out there. They are armored in Kevlar, and they have permission to use deadly force, which I promise you they will use.”
Sarah kept her eyes closed, shaking her arms, staying loose. “I’m trying to get to my happy place, Bryce. Don’t throw off my groove.” She popped her eyes open and then punched the first-floor button, and the elevator jolted upward.
From what she had seen of the formation when the doors opened before, the guards on her right were the most exposed, and that was where she would concentrate her gunfire—while staying on the move to avoid the bullets of the others in the tight circle. All she had to do was get close to one of them, move to hand-to-hand combat, take a hostage, and back out the front door.
The elevator light lit up, and the doors dinged. Before the first shot was fired, Sarah spun out of the elevator, keeping low on both knees, her backside nearly horizontal with the floor, making herself as small a target as possible as she fired into the first two guards on the right.
Her gunshot triggered an eruption of gunfire all around the circle, and the harsh sting of two bullets smacked into the left side of her ribs, which were still thankfully covered with what was left of her Kevlar jacket. Despite the pain, she stayed on target, dropping three more guards to her right and opening a gap in guard’s line of defense.
Sarah rolled right, her elbows and knees screaming with each smack against the tile, as she continued her own cover fire and grabbed hold of the first downed guard she came across, putting him between her and the rest of the gunfire.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” The leader of the security squad held up his hand, and the gunfire immediately ended, but every gun remained trained on Sarah and her new friend.
Sarah worked the guard’s body to the exit, both of her arms under his armpits, one pistol pressed to the side of his cheek and the other aimed at the overpowering number of combatants. “So I know this probably looks bad, but I promise I have very, very good intentions.” She tilted her head to the side, still continuing to shimmy toward the exit with her puppet. “I mean, yes, I did break into the place and steal something, but you’ll thank me later.”
“Your negotiating skills are impeccable,” Bryce said.
The lead guard again separated himself from the rest of the pack. “Put the guns down, and let him go!”
Sarah bumped her elbow against the door handle and forced both her captive and her own foot out the door as she stared the lead guard right in the eye. “Um. No.” She scurried out, backtracking as quickly as she could drag her reluctant hostage away. She looked down at him as some of the guards continued to follow. His face was as white as a sheet. “Don’t worry, pal. I won’t let them hurt you. And hey, just think of the story you’ll have to tell the grandkids.”
“I imagine this is how most first dates go for you,” Bryce said.
“Actually, there’s usually more gunfire,” Sarah said.
She stepped off the property and looked for a car she could highjack, choosing a slightly paint-faded Toyota Corolla. She placed the guard in the driver’s seat, choosing the back seat directly behind him so she could keep the gun on the back of his skull.
The guard started the engine and put the vehicle into drive while the rest of the security force that had followed kept near the building’s perimeter. Just before the guard shifted into drive, Sarah tapped his skull lightly with the pistol. “Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” She motioned to the seat belt. “Click it or ticket, buddy.”
6
The corner office was modest, neither intimidating in size nor decorated with items meant to evoke a sense of superiority. The title on the desk was enough to do that. The door was ajar, and inside, there were only five pieces of furniture: a desk, three chairs, and a filing cabinet, locked at all times, alone in the corner.
Taylor Grimes sifted through emails, deleting most, replying only to a select few. His desk was immaculate, everything from his laptop, mouse, and secondary monitor to his smartphone mapped out in a perfect grid. No pictures of family, no personal items of any nature. He didn’t have time for such things.
The screen of his smartphone lit up, accompanied by a buzz that stole his attention away from his inbox. He reached for the phone and saw that the message had come through the app he’d created.
Wheels are in motion. Just make sure you hold up your end of the deal.
The message remained for only five seconds after being opened, and then it dissolved, wiped clean and completely untraceable from his device or from the device from which it had originated.
“Hey, boss.” The words accompanied a knock
on the door frame, and Luke hovered just outside the office, knowing not to enter unless given permission. “We’ve just had something come up.”
“What is it?” Grimes pocketed his phone and closed the lid on his laptop, already knowing what was coming.
Luke inhaled, his tie swinging from his neck and his cheeks growing pallid. “We’re not sure.”
Grimes followed Luke into the bullpen, where clusters of analysts sat in their task-specific pods, monitoring situations on their screens, most of their eyes bloodshot from the staring contests that were their jobs. Luke stopped behind a younger woman with her hair braided then curled into a bun on the back of her head. She had high cheekbones and looked as though she were drowning in the plain white blouse she wore. “Harper, go ahead and show Deputy Director Grimes what you showed me.”
“Yes, sir.” Bone-thin fingers glided effortlessly over the keyboard, and a video surfaced of a gunfight in a small lobby. At least twenty guards opened fire on an empty elevator, and then the doors closed, and the video ended.
Grimes shrugged. “What am I looking at?”
“Sir, this was the site of one of our private contractors that provides the detonation chips for our nuclear program.” Luke tapped Harper on the shoulder and pointed to the screen. “Go ahead and play that video back and then enhance the image you showed me.”
Harper complied, and when she froze the video and zoomed in on the far edge of the elevator, there was a sliver of black. Grimes squinted and leaned in closer, playing up the charade. “Do we know who was inside?”
“No, sir, and as of right now, most of the public doesn’t know what is manufactured there. Officials with the company are playing it off as a work dispute that happened on the premises.” Luke pointed to the screen. “But that elevator is coming up. And we’ve done some imaging of the premises, and there is something below ground. We just don’t have clearance to ascertain what it is.”
Grimes was already halfway down the hall when he turned back to Luke and Harper. “Send that to my secure email. I want everything you have on that video, and I want a summary breakdown in twenty minutes.” He clapped his hands like a football coach inspiring his team, the analysts diving into their work upon his command. “Let’s move!”
