Chapter 5 - THE COLD ARCHIVE
Emma's breath hitched in her throat.
David.
The man who had shared an office with her for five years.
The man who brought strawberry donuts every Tuesday morning.
He stood under the emergency red lamp, his face twisted into cold, greedy malice.
"Check the risers!" David barked into his tactical radio.
"Sterling wants them both dead before the sun comes up!"
Adrian reached forward inside the cramped metal duct.
His hand covered Emma's mouth, muffling her gasp.
His chest pressed firmly against her back.
She could feel the steady, heavy thud of his heart through his linen shirt.
He leaned close to her ear.
"Keep crawling," he breathed, barely a whisper against her hair.
They moved through the vibrating aluminum artery.
The exhaust fans roared like jet engines, masking the scrape of their knees.
Cold lake air rushed through the louvers.
After forty feet, the duct opened onto the suspended catwalk of the seventy-second floor mechanical deck.
Giant blue water chillers hummed in the shadows.
Steam hissed from high-pressure valves.
Adrian dropped lightly onto the steel grating, then caught Emma by her waist as she slid out.
He set her down gently.
"David was inside my firm's server," Emma whispered, her eyes burning with angry tears.
"Every drawing."
"Every private residence."
"He sold them all to Sterling."
"He sold you, Emma," Adrian said softly.
He checked his weapon's magazine.
Three rounds left.
"He set you up as the fall girl."
"If Sterling's safe room was ever raided by federal agents, your signature was on the municipal permit."
"You would have taken a twenty-year sentence for treason and weapons trafficking."
Emma gripped the steel railing of the catwalk.
The rage inside her chest burned hotter than the terror.
"I gave him half my company," she spat.
"Trust is an expensive luxury," Adrian replied.
"You only buy it once."
He led her toward the exterior window washing platform on the south face of the mechanical deck.
The rain was falling in blinding sheets now, washing the Chicago skyline in gray water.
Adrian pulled out his phone.
The screen lit up with an encrypted ping.
It wasn't Marcus.
It was Dominic Sterling.
Adrian hit speaker.
A smooth, mocking voice filled the wind-whipped space:
"Good evening, Adrian."
"Dominic," Adrian answered, his voice icy calm.
"I see you met Miss Hayes."
"A brilliant designer, don't you think?"
"Her schematics for my new vault are breathtaking."
"She made it completely soundproof."
"Which is fortunate, because nobody will hear you die inside it."
"You're sloppy, Dominic," Adrian said.
"Using an architect to launder your forward operating bases?"
"The Commission will execute you for bringing civilians into a territorial feud."
Dominic laughed.
A dry, rattling sound.
"The Commission is dead, Adrian."
"While you were eating chicken and rice with your little girlfriend, I hosted a dinner of my own."
"The five families of the Midwest ratified my charter twenty minutes ago."
"Your father's legacy is officially canceled."
"And David is currently delivering your family's master biometric keys from your office safe."
Adrian’s jaw tightened until a muscle jumped in his cheek.
"David doesn't have the master keys," Adrian said.
"He does," Dominic purred.
"Because your trusted lieutenant, Julian, handed them over half an hour ago."
Adrian’s fingers tightened on the phone.
Julian.
His second-in-command for ten years.
The man who had stood beside him at his father's funeral.
"Goodbye, Adrian," Dominic said.
"Enjoy the fall."
The line went dead.
Across the catwalk, the heavy fire door slammed open.
David Miller stepped onto the steel platform, flanked by four armed mercenaries.
David leveled his shotgun directly at Emma's chest.
"I'm sorry, Emma," David said, his voice trembling with manic greed.
"Sterling offered me two million."
"I couldn't say no."
Adrian stepped directly in front of Emma, shielding her completely.
"You should have asked for more," Adrian whispered.
Adrian reached into his pocket and dropped a heavy brass smoke canister onto the steel grating.
A blinding blast of white phosphorus and thick chemical fog swallowed the catwalk.
Gunfire exploded blindly through the smoke.
Adrian grabbed Emma’s wrist.
May you like
He didn't run for the stairs.
He leaped over the safety rail toward the window washing cradle suspended fifty feet below in the storm.
