Chapter 8 - The Infiltration
On Sunday night, I drove David's car into a subterranean parking garage in downtown Chicago.
I had left Emma and Lily under the care of Karen and two trusted security guards at a safehouse outside the city limits. Lily was recovering fast; her appetite was back, and the infection was completely gone.
Now, it was time to finish this.
I wasn't a soldier or a spy. I was a thirty-four-year-old mother with a clipboard, a stolen security badge, and an unshakeable rage.
Using a corporate ID badge Karen had procured from an insider source at Apex Global, I walked into the glass tower of St. Jude Bio-Tech at 8:00 PM on Sunday. The building was mostly empty, bathed in the dim blue light of night-shift security monitors.
I wore a pair of dark scrubs, a white lab coat, and pulled my hair back into a tight bun.
I rode the elevator up to the 42nd floor—the executive legal and research suites.
When the elevator doors slid open, two armed private security guards were standing at the end of the corridor outside a set of double frosted-glass doors.
"Floor 42 is restricted after seven," one of them said, stepping forward with his hand resting on his holstered sidearm.
I didn't slow down. I walked right up to them holding a tablet computer displaying a forged medical transfer order.
"Dr. Aris Thorne's office sent me up," I said, using the name of the lead researcher listed on Lily's consent paperwork. "We have a critical sample contamination issue in the basement archive. They need the primary legal file for patient L-0604 immediately before the federal injunction lands tomorrow."
The guard frowned, looking down at the tablet. "Nobody told us about an injunction."
"That's because legal didn't want you panicking," I said, lowering my voice to a sharp, authoritative whisper. "If those original paper files with the mother's original signature aren't in the shredded transport vault by midnight, every person in this building is getting subpoenaed by the Department of Justice. Now let me through or you can explain to Dr. Thorne why his license is getting revoked."
The guard hesitated for three agonizing seconds. Then he swiped his keycard against the reader and pushed the glass door open. "Make it quick. The cleanup crew comes through at nine."
I stepped inside.
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The suite was luxurious—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Chicago skyline, mahogany desks, and heavy leather chairs. At the far end of the room sat a massive fireproof filing safe.
Standing near the window, looking out over the city lights with a glass of wine in her hand, was my sister Sarah.
