Chapter 56 - The Tunnels of Treason
The world turned into shades of luminescent green.
The air in the maintenance tunnel was thick with the stench of damp earth, stale oil, and decaying insulation.
Rusted iron pipes ran along the curved brick walls, remnants of an infrastructure built during the early twentieth century to connect the Capitol with surrounding federal buildings.
I moved with silent, practiced efficiency, my weapon raised in the low-ready position.
Every step was calculated to avoid the loose gravel and exposed wiring along the tracks.
According to the tactical map uploaded to my HUD, the maintenance spur branched off into three sub-levels.
The syndicate had chosen the lowest level—a forgotten cold-war bunker designated as Site-B, originally constructed to shield congressional leadership during a nuclear exchange.
Now, it was housing the digital guillotine of the modern world.
*"Cross, this is Vance,"* the General’s voice cut through the static on my tactical frequency. *"We have eyes on your transponder. You’re two hundred meters from the Site-B junction."*
"What’s the status on Eleanor?" I asked, keeping my eyes scanned forward.
*"She’s in transit aboard the Black Hawk,"* Vance reported. *"Her heart rate is dropping steadily. Systolic pressure is under eighty. The medics are administering whole blood, but the vascular damage is severe. You have maybe fifteen minutes before she arrests."*
"I'm moving as fast as I can," I said.
Ahead of me, a faint flicker of yellow light broke the oppressive darkness.
I dropped into a crouch, sliding behind a row of cast-iron ventilation ducts.
Two sentries stood outside the reinforced bulkhead of Site-B.
They were not typical mercenaries.
Through the green glow of my night-vision, I recognized their uniforms.
Black tactical suits bearing the insignia of the Department of Homeland Security's Elite Protective Operations.
My blood ran cold.
They weren't rogue contractors.
They were active federal agents, turned by Eleanor’s influence, standing guard over the destruction of their own government.
"Treason runs deep," I murmured to myself.
I raised my suppressed sidearm, aligning the tritium sights with the lead agent's jawline.
I didn't give them a chance to surrender.
When you betray the flag from the inside, you forfeit the right to a warning.
I pulled the trigger twice.
*Phut. Phut.*
The lead agent collapsed instantly, his helmet clattering against the concrete.
The second agent whipped his carbine around, but before his finger could touch the trigger, a third round caught him between the eyes.
He dropped like a stone beside his partner.
I advanced quickly, stepping over the fallen men, and pulled a keycard from the second agent's tactical vest.
I swiped it across the biometric scanner beside the heavy blast door.
The red light blinked twice, then turned a solid, approving green.
The pneumatic seals hissed, and the massive six-inch steel door slowly swung inward.
Inside, the chill was unnatural.
Massive industrial cooling units roared in the background, keeping the temperature of the subterranean chamber near freezing.
Rows upon rows of black server racks stretched across the cavernous room, their blue and amber status lights blinking in rhythmic synchronicity.
In the center of the room sat a circular console surrounded by high-resolution monitors displaying financial exchanges, power grid maps, and classified military launch protocols.
Standing at that console, calmly typing commands into a mechanical keyboard, was a man in a charcoal-gray bespoke suit.
He didn't turn around when the door opened.
"You're late, Colonel Cross," he said smoothly.
The voice was unmistakably cultivated.
I leveled my weapon at the back of his head.
"Step away from the console," I ordered.
The man finished his keystroke, pressed the enter key with a satisfying click, and turned around slowly with his hands raised to shoulder height.
Under the harsh fluorescent light of the server room, I recognized the face immediately.
It was Deputy Director Sterling of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
"You?" I said, the pieces falling into place with terrifying speed. "You were the one who signed the surveillance warrants against my unit."
"I signed a lot of things, Maya," Sterling said, smiling with the cold confidence of a man holding all the cards. "Including the requisition order that provided your husband with his federal immunity."
"Arthur was an idiot," I said.
May you like
"Arthur was a necessary nuisance," Sterling agreed. "Just like your mother. Eleanor was brilliant, but she had a tragic flaw: she thought she was in charge."
***
