Chapter 44 - The Senator's Broadcast
At midnight, Ethan managed to patch the bunker’s emergency shortwave receiver into a portable television monitor salvaged from an old emergency broadcast kit. The screen flickered with static before locking onto the emergency live feed of CNN.
The banner running across the bottom of the screen made Sarah let out a strangled scream.
**BREAKING NEWS: NATIONWIDE MANHUNT UNDERWAY FOR DOMESTIC TERRORISTS IN CHILD ABDUCTION CASE.**
On the screen stood United States Senator William Sterling, framed against the marble columns of the Capitol building. His silver hair was perfectly coiffed, his face a masterclass in performative, paternal sorrow.
*"My fellow Americans,"* Sterling spoke, his voice carrying the polished resonance of absolute authority. *"Tonight, our hearts break for the Sinclair family and the community of Millfield. Earlier this evening, radicalized domestic elements—led by a disgraced former state records clerk, Margaret Vance, and her son Ethan—executed a coordinated violent attack on a local estate, resulting in multiple casualties. In their flight from justice, they have abducted four-year-old Noah Vance, a child currently undergoing life-saving federal clinical trials."*
The screen switched to show Margaret’s driver’s license photo, beside Ethan’s mugshot from a minor college protest fifteen years ago. Below their faces, in bold red letters, was the directive:
**ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. SHOOT ON SIGHT AUTHORIZATION ISSUED BY FEDERAL MARSHALS.**
"Shoot on sight..." Ethan whispered, clutching his hair. "They’ve cut off every exit. If a state trooper sees this car, they won't even ask for ID. They'll just execute us in the ditch."
*"We have reason to believe,"* Senator Sterling continued on screen, his eyes staring straight through the camera lens with chilling conviction, *"that the perpetrators are attempting to transport the minor across state lines. Let me be unequivocally clear: the federal government will spare no resource. The Department of Homeland Security has mobilized tactical response teams across five states. To Margaret Vance, I say this: surrender the boy. Do not force us to end your life in front of your grandson."*
The broadcast cut back to the anchor, but Margaret wasn't listening to the anchor. She was looking at the bottom right corner of the screen.
Standing behind Senator Sterling, partially obscured by two Secret Service agents, was Clara.
She wasn't in handcuffs. She wasn't running. She was dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, holding a leather diplomatic courier pouch bearing the official seal of the United States State Department.
"Look at her," Margaret whispered, her knuckles cracking as she clenched her fists. "She isn't just their broker. She’s his Chief of Staff."
"Mom, look at the radio," Ethan suddenly said, pointing to the glowing amber dials of the seismic communications panel.
The針on the analog signal meter was bouncing rhythmically.
*Dot-dot-dot. Dash-dash-dash. Dot-dot-dot.*
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An automated distress beacon wasn't coming from the outside world. It was broadcasting from directly inside the bunker—from inside Noah’s right shoulder.
***
