Chapter 5 - The Siege of Chicago
The rain had turned into a thick, blinding sleet by four in the morning.
Miles’ private convoy—three black armored SUVs escorted by two marked city police cruisers secured by Sterling’s high-level contacts in the Mayor’s office—screeched to a halt in the ambulance bay of Mercy Memorial Hospital.
Miles jumped from the lead vehicle before it had fully stopped, holding Sophie wrapped in his dry wool coat, with Sterling and six armed guards moving in a tactical formation around them.
The hospital was now under total lockdown.
Dozens of uniformed Chicago police officers stood guard at every glass entrance, their emergency lights flashing red and blue against the falling snow, painting the white hospital walls in violent colors.
Miles stormed into the SICU.
Inside Bay 4, two senior cardiothoracic specialists were standing over Emily’s bed, holding an empty glass IV container filled with a milky, pale-red fluid that had been disconnected just in time.
"Mr. Wilson!" Dr. Miller, the chief of surgery, said, rushing over, his face pale. "We stopped the infusion five seconds after your call! Only twenty milliliters entered the catheter! We’ve already started an emergency exchange transfusion with the fresh O-negative blood your team delivered!"
Miles pushed past him, setting Sophie down on a chair near the window before stepping up to his sister’s bed.
He looked at the monitors.
Emily’s heart rate, which had been erratic and crashing an hour ago, was beginning to stabilize. The sharp, jagged red line on the cardiac screen was smoothing out into a steady, rhythmic pulse: Beep... beep... beep...
"Is she going to live?" Miles asked, his hand trembling as he reached out and took Emily’s cold, thin fingers in his own.
Dr. Miller checked the pupil response with a penlight and cleared his throat. "The oxygenation levels are improving. The damage from the trauma is severe, Mr. Wilson, but stopping that contaminated fluid saved her life. If that entire unit had entered her system... her kidneys would have shut down within thirty minutes."
Miles pulled his sister’s cold hand to his forehead, closing his eyes, letting out a ragged, shaking sob that he had held inside for ten long years.
"I'm here, Em," he whispered against her skin. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving again."
Behind him, the door to the ICU swung open.
Ross, the security chief, stepped inside, his tactical radio buzzing against his shoulder strap. He looked at Sterling, then at Miles.
"Mr. Wilson," Ross said in a low, hard voice. "We have a problem outside."
Miles stood up slowly, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "What is it?"
"Arthur Vance just arrived in the main lobby," Ross said. "He brought three corporate attorneys, two private security teams, and a precinct captain from the 18th District. He’s holding a court order issued twenty minutes ago by an emergency circuit judge."
Sterling’s eyes narrowed. "A court order for what?"
"Immediate protective custody of Emily Carter," Ross replied grimly. "They’re claiming she’s a primary witness in an ongoing federal corporate espionage investigation and that Wilson Biotech has illegally abducted her from Aegis clinical care."
Sterling let out a cold, bitter laugh. "Arthur Vance thinks he can use a compromised local judge to drag a dying woman out of an ICU?"
"He doesn't want her alive, Marcus," Miles said, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly quiet calm. The weakness, the tears, the shock—all of it vanished, replaced by an iron resolve that felt as hard as diamond. "He knows the flash drive is gone. He knows I have it. He’s trying to seize her body before she wakes up and testifies."
Miles turned to Dr. Miller. "Can she be moved?"
"Moved?!" Dr. Miller looked horrified. "Mr. Wilson, she’s on a ventilator! She’s suffered severe internal trauma! Moving her now could kill her!"
"Staying here will kill her," Miles said flatly. He turned to Ross. "Where is my private medical transport helicopter?"
"Standing by at the Meigs Field helipad, three miles away," Ross reported. "Equipped with a mobile ICU unit and two flight nurses."
"Sterling," Miles ordered, looking his legal counsel dead in the eye. "Take the flash drive. Take two guards. Go down to the lobby and meet Arthur Vance. Keep him talking. Use every legal injunction, every corporate threat, every delay tactic in the book."
"And you?" Sterling asked.
May you like
Miles looked down at Sophie, who was sitting on the chair, holding Mr. Buttons, watching him with quiet, absolute trust.
"I’m taking my family home," Miles said.
