Chapter 45 - A Mother's Ransom
The Brooklyn Navy Yard was veiled in heavy maritime mist as our tactical van slipped through the abandoned industrial gates near Pier 4.
Through night-vision lenses, the *Proteus* loomed like a hulking black monolith against the murky waters of the East River. It was a three-hundred-foot converted oceanographic vessel, fitted with satellite dishes, private radar arrays, and heavy steel bulkheads.
"Security is tight," Liam reported from the driver's seat, tapping a tablet displaying thermal imaging of the ship's decks. "Eight private contractors on the main deck. Armed with submachine guns. Another four guarding the laboratory wing below deck. And there’s a VIP chopper sitting on the helipad with its rotors warm."
"Henrik Voss is on that boat," Clara said, her voice shaking with sudden dread. "He didn't stay in Europe. He flew in to oversee the data purge personally."
Before we could finalize the breach protocol, the encrypted tablet on my lap chimed with an incoming video signal.
I tapped the screen.
The image resolved into a stark, metal-walled cabin. Eleanor Vance was strapped to a steel examination chair, an IV line taped to her forearm. Her face was pale and bruised, but her chin was held high, her eyes blazing with defiant pride.
Standing behind her was Dr. Henrik Voss himself, impeccably groomed in a charcoal cashmere suit, holding a silver medical injector against the side of Eleanor’s neck.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Lin," Voss’s voice purred through the speaker with smooth, continental arrogance. "I assume you are listening."
Marcus leaned into the camera frame. "Release her, Voss. The U.S. Attorney’s office already has Julian’s sworn deposition, and federal agents are mobilizing as we speak."
Voss chuckled softly, a dry, grating sound. "Julian is a pathetic petty thief whose word holds zero weight in an international maritime tribunal. But this woman... this woman is your chief archivist. The only living witness who can authenticate the original chain of custody for your research."
He pressed the needle deeper into Eleanor’s skin. A tiny droplet of clear liquid beaded at the tip.
"I will make this very simple, Dr. Lin," Voss continued, staring dead into the camera. "You have thirty minutes. Bring Clara and the master encryption drive to the helipad on Pier 4. Surrender the original files, sign the global patent transfer deed, and your archivist walks off this vessel alive. If you refuse, or if a single law enforcement vessel enters this shipping channel, I depress this plunger. The synthetic neurotoxin will terminate her brain function within forty-five seconds."
Eleanor lunged forward against her restraints, spitting blood onto the metal floor. "Don't do it, Sarah! Let them kill me! Publish the ledger! Don't let them steal the cure!"
Voss struck Eleanor across the face with the back of his hand, cutting off her words.
"Thirty minutes, Dr. Lin," Voss said coldly. "Choose wisely."
May you like
The screen snapped to black.
***
