Chapter 5 - THE ESCAPE THROUGH THE RAIN
The phone slipped from my fingers.
Julian caught it midair before it hit the concrete.
He looked at the screen.
His jaw tightened until the tendons in his neck stood out like iron cables.
"They're moving faster than I thought," Julian muttered.
"Mason is in danger!" I gasped, grabbing Julian’s lapel.
"My husband is trapped there alone!"
"Your husband is smarter than you think, Lily," Arthur said, stepping between us.
"Mason is the one who hid the offshore routing numbers before Price could erase them."
"He knew this day was coming."
Julian shoved the phone back into my pocket.
"We move now. Marcus has a clean car waiting three blocks south at the 8th Street station."
We climbed down the iron rungs of the coal chute into the dank, subterranean tunnels beneath Philadelphia.
The air was thick with the smell of damp earth, rust, and ozone from the third rails above.
Water dripped steadily from the vaulted brick ceilings.
Arthur kept pace, his jaw set in stubborn determination despite his age and exhaustion.
Twenty minutes later, we climbed through an abandoned maintenance grate into a torrential downpour.
Rain slammed against the asphalt like buckshot.
A battered black Ford Explorer pulled up to the curb, its tires splashing through deep puddles.
The passenger door flew open.
Marcus leaned out, his shoulder soaked with rain.
"Get in! Fast!"
We piled into the back seat.
The leather was cold against my soaked uniform.
Marcus stomped on the gas pedal.
The SUV surged forward, tires screeching against wet pavement as we merged into the midnight traffic.
"Status on the apartment?" Julian demanded from the front seat, pulling a tablet from the glovebox.
"Two unmarked sedans parked outside Mason Carter’s building," Marcus reported, checking his rearview mirror.
"Local precinct isn't answering emergency calls for that block. Price has the district captain on his payroll."
My stomach churned with ice-cold dread.
"We have to go get him," I begged, leaning between the front seats.
"Please, Julian. He has no weapons. He's an accountant!"
Julian tapped the screen of his tablet.
"Look at the street feed, Lily."
He handed the tablet back to me.
On the grainy security camera feed from a corner bodega, I saw our fourth-floor apartment window.
The glass was intact.
Suddenly, the headlights of an old 2011 Honda Civic flickered to life in the alley behind our building.
The Civic accelerated hard in reverse, smashing through the wooden gate of the trash enclosure.
A black sedan tried to block the alley exit.
The Civic didn't slow down.
It rammed the rear quarter panel of the luxury sedan, spinning it into a brick fire hydrant.
The little silver Honda roared onto South Street, taking a sharp left on two wheels.
"That's Mason!" I shouted, tears of pure relief burning my eyes.
"I told you," Arthur chucked from beside me.
"The boy never could follow a standard driving manual."
"Call him," Julian commanded.
I dialed Mason’s number on speakerphone.
It rang once. Twice.
Click.
"Lily?!" Mason’s voice came through the speakers, breathless, ragged, and terrified.
"Lily, where are you?! Are you safe?!"
"I’m in a car with Julian Calder and his father!" I shouted over the road noise.
Silence fell over the line for two full seconds.
"Arthur Calder is alive?" Mason breathed, pure shock in his tone.
"He's sitting right next to me," I said.
"Mason," Arthur spoke into the phone, his voice steady and commanding.
"Did you secure the ledger mirrors?"
"Yes, Mr. Calder," Mason answered, tires squealing in the background.
"I have the physical hard drive in my glove compartment. But Price’s hit team is right behind me. A black Chevy Tahoe. They're trying to pit-maneuver me onto the Ben Franklin Bridge!"
"Mason, don't cross the bridge!" Julian barked into the phone.
"Take the Vine Street Expressway exit! We are four miles behind you!"
Through the phone, I heard the deafening roar of a heavy engine accelerating.
Then a violent metallic crunch.
Mason cried out in pain.
The sound of shattering safety glass tore through the phone speaker.
"Mason!" I screamed.
"They're ramming me!" Mason shouted, his voice drowning in the screech of tearing steel.
"Lily, I love you—"
May you like
The call ended with the sickening sound of an explosion and dead static.
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