Chapter 5 - Into the Vault
The air above Manhattan was turbulent, swept by rain-heavy gusts coming off the Hudson River.
Our helicopter landed on a private roof pad three blocks from the abandoned St. Jude Reproductive Health Center in Washington Heights. The building was a six-story Gothic brick structure built in the 1920s, its windows dark, boarded up with heavy plywood, surrounded by chain-link fences bearing danger placards: HAZARDOUS MATERIAL - DEMOLITION SITE.
Ronin and two of his elite operators, clad in dark tactical gear, led the way down the fire escape and across the rear alleyway.
“Thermal imaging shows four human signatures inside the lower basement level, Boss,” Ronin reported, holding a compact scanner against the metal service door at the back of the building. “They’re moving heavy equipment. Looks like industrial incinerators.”
“They’re destroying the physical archives,” I said, pulling my collar up against the rain. “Can you open the door without tripping an alarm?”
Ronin gave a short, cold smile. He applied a small magnetic device to the electronic lock mechanism. A faint chime sounded, and the heavy steel door clicked open silently.
We slipped inside.
The air inside St. Jude smelled of damp concrete, old chemicals, and stagnant water. Our tactical flashlights cut beams through the thick dust hovering in the corridors.
We moved silently down three flights of concrete stairs, descending deep into the sub-basement beneath the city street level.
Through a pair of double reinforced glass doors at the end of a long hallway, a bright yellow light flickered.
Two men in biohazard suits were throwing boxes of paper files into a roaring portable diesel incinerator. Sitting at a metal folding desk near the back wall was a man in an expensive navy suit, typing frantically on a ruggedized laptop.
I recognized him instantly from the news broadcasts: Julian Vance, Deputy Director of Child and Family Services.
“Faster!” Julian was barking at the workers. “The city demolition permits go into effect at 6:00 AM! I want every paper ledger, every backup tape, and every sample tray burned before the hard hat crew arrives!”
“What about the laboratory hard drive in Vault B, Director?” one of the workers asked. “It’s protected by a hardware encryption lock. It’ll take three hours to wipe.”
“Pull the drive from the rack and throw it straight into the fire!” Julian yelled, standing up and slamming his fist on the desk. “If my brother’s name or Nathan Carter’s genetic records are recovered by federal investigators, we’re all going to federal prison for thirty years!”
I stepped through the double doors into the pool of yellow light.
“Thirty years sounds merciful for what you’ve done, Julian,” I said, my voice echoing off the concrete walls.
Julian spun around, his face draining of all color. The two biohazard workers reached for their utility belts, but before they could move, Ronin and his operators had their silenced submachine guns trained directly on their chests.
“Don't move,” Ronin said smoothly. “Hands on your heads. Now.”
The workers immediately dropped their tools and raised their gloved hands.
Julian stumbled backward, knocking his folding chair over onto the floor. “Carter... how... how did you get in here?”
“You forgot that Dr. Thorne didn't trust you, Julian,” I said, walking slowly toward the desk. I pulled the cream-colored letter from my coat pocket. “He left me the master security code. 8841-Alpha-Carter.”
Julian’s eyes darted frantically toward a heavy steel safe set into the rear concrete wall—a vault marked with a high-voltage warning sign.
“You’re too late, Nathan,” Julian stammered, trying to regain his composure, pulling his suit jacket straight. “You have no standing here! This is a state-controlled medical site! You are trespassing on government-seized property!”
“I’m not trespassing, Julian,” I said, pointing to the laptop on the desk, where a file transfer window was currently displaying live database directories. “I’m conducting an executive audit of my personal property. My biological material was stolen by your brother and processed through your agency’s illegal surrogacy ring.”
I looked at Ronin. “Secure him.”
Ronin stepped forward, clapping heavy steel handcuffs around Julian Vance’s wrists before the bureaucrat could even attempt to run.
May you like
I stepped up to the heavy steel vault wall, typing the code into the digital keypad: 8841-A-L-P-H-A-C-A-R-T-E-R.
The heavy pneumatic seals hissed, releasing a cloud of cold nitrogen vapor as the steel door swung open.
