Chapter 20 - Ground Zero: The St. Jude-Geneva Ward
The concrete floor inches from Dr. Thorne’s feet exploded into a shower of pulverized stone and lead fragments.
"Down!" Mercer roared, tackling Thorne to the ground just as a second high-velocity round tore through the wooden crate where the scientist had been sitting a second before, splintering it into kindling.
Olivia dove behind the massive steel wheel of a decommissioned locomotive, clutching the cryogenic canister tightly against her chest. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, but her mind remained ice-cold, instantly assessing the trajectory of the fire.
"Sterling! We're under attack!" Olivia yelled into her earpiece communicator. "Sniper in the rafters! West gantry!"
"Breaching now! Hold your position!" Sterling’s voice crackled through the earbud, accompanied by the distant sound of tactical vehicle engines roaring to life outside the depot.
High above, shadows moved across the rusted metal catwalks. Two figures in tactical assault gear, armed with suppressed submachine guns, descended rapidly down the industrial maintenance ladders, moving with ruthless, practiced efficiency. They weren't common street thugs; they were the Consortium’s private military cleanup operators—dispatched to erase every trace of the bio-engineering program.
"They aren't here to negotiate," Mercer shouted over the deafening clatter of automatic fire ricocheting off the locomotive's steel hull. "They're going to burn this entire depot to the ground!"
Thorne was hyperventilating, curled into a fetal position on the oil-stained concrete. "It’s over... they found us... we’re never going to reach the gateway terminal..."
"Look at me, Aris!" Olivia commanded, crawling over the wet ground and grabbing Thorne by his lapels, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her voice was steady, fierce, and entirely devoid of fear. "You spent five years creating this technology. You are not going to die in a pile of rusted iron while two hundred babies pay for your cowardice! Where is the nearest physical gateway terminal that can broadcast this algorithm?"
Thorne blinked, his panicked eyes focusing on Olivia’s unshakeable determination. "The... the St. Jude-Geneva International Pediatric Research Pavilion... just across the border, twenty minutes from here. It houses the primary European telemetry server for neonatal monitoring. If you plug that drive directly into the central master relay in Geneva, it will override the entire continental satellite array."
"Then that’s where we are going," Olivia said.
At that moment, the heavy corrugated iron doors of the depot were blown off their hinges with a concussive blast of white light and thunder.
Agent Sterling and four heavily armed federal tactical operators breached the perimeter, their assault rifles barking in controlled, disciplined bursts. Suppressive fire chewed into the catwalks above, forcing the two mercenary operators to abandon their descent and scramble for cover along the industrial gantry.
"Move! Move! Extraction team is on the south ramp!" Sterling bellowed through the smoke and cordite, laying down covering fire with his sidearm as he advanced toward their position.
Mercer hauled Thorne to his feet, shielding the shaking scientist with his own body. Olivia sprang up, tucking the titanium canister securely into the inner pocket of her tactical fleece, and sprinted toward the rear exit under Sterling’s suppressive cover.
Bullets sparked wildly against the concrete at their heels, but Olivia didn't look back. Her eyes were locked onto the waiting armored transport idling outside in the torrential rain.
They scrambled through the shattered doorway, tumbling into the reinforced passenger compartment just as the driver slammed the vehicle into gear. The heavy tires spun against the wet gravel, catching traction and launching the armored SUV out onto the main thoroughfare, leaving the burning shadows of Shed 4 behind.
Inside the cabin, Olivia leaned back against the armored door, gasping for air, her fingers pressed against the cold metallic cylinder in her pocket.
"Are you hit?" Mercer asked urgently, his hands immediately checking her shoulders, arms, and torso for blood.
"I'm fine," Olivia breathed, brushing damp hair from her forehead. She looked at Sterling, who was reloading his magazine in the front seat. "Sterling, change coordinates. We aren't going to the airport. We’re heading straight to the St. Jude-Geneva Pavilion."
Sterling looked back, his face streaked with soot and rain. "Bennett, that facility is under private diplomatic protection. It’s owned by the very board members who funded Vance."
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"Then they won't expect us to walk straight through the front door," Olivia replied, her eyes narrowing with resolve. "We have the cure. Now we deliver it."
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