Chapter 8 - Cornered in the Lion's Den
I barely had time to process Austin’s horrifying admission before the sound of footsteps echoed outside my apartment door.
Two heavy thuds hit the wood. Then the lock clicked.
They had a master key.
I grabbed my coat, my phone, and my car keys, sprinting toward the rear fire escape as the front door swung open with a violent crash.
Two men in dark suits and tactical vests burst into the hallway. “Mercer! Freeze!”
I didn't freeze. I kicked open the emergency exit, lunged onto the metal fire escape, and threw myself down the iron stairs into the alley below. The freezing morning rain soaked through my shirt instantly.
“Stop her!” one of the men shouted from above.
Footsteps clattered against the iron grating behind me. I reached the bottom landing, vaulted over the dumpster, and landed hard on the wet asphalt, rolling onto my shoulder to absorb the impact. Pain shot through my bruised ribs, but adrenaline pushed it aside.
I sprinted toward the main street. I couldn't use my car; they would have an operative watching the parking lot.
I ducked into a crowded coffee shop on the corner of Wilson Boulevard, blending in among morning commuters holding briefcases and umbrellas. I pushed through the line, exited through the rear delivery door, and slipped into the underground Metro station just as a train pulled up to the platform.
The doors slid shut behind me, severing the pursuit.
I collapsed onto a hard plastic seat, gasping for air. Passengers looked at me—a disheveled woman with a bleeding lip, a swollen black-and-blue cheek, soaked to the bone, clutching a cell phone.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Vance’s secure line.
“Claire?” Vance answered on the second ring. “Where are you?”
“They came to my apartment,” I said, my voice shaking with fury and exhaustion. “They tried to take me. And Vance... it’s worse than we thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“Austin just admitted on an unsecured call that Thomas didn't just alter the report,” I said, tears of rage finally blurring my vision. “Thomas called in a strike on the secondary observation post. He killed the spotters who witnessed Austin hiding in that bunker.”
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the other end of the line.
“Sweet Jesus,” Vance whispered, his voice trembling with profound fury. “That’s not just fraud. That’s treason. That’s capital murder.”
“Are we still going to the Pentagon?” I asked, wiping the rain from my eyes.
“Change of plans,” Vance commanded firmly. “Don't come to the public entrance. Thomas has military police posted at every checkpoint with your photograph. Meet me at the Congressional entrance of the Rayburn Building on Capitol Hill in forty-five minutes. Senator Albright has just called an emergency closed-door session of the Armed Services Committee.”
“Can Albright stop the promotion?”
May you like
“Albright isn't just going to stop the promotion, Claire,” Vance said grimly. “He’s going to bring the entire Mercer empire crashing down to hell. Get here now.”
***
