Chapter 3 - The Ghost Protocol
Megan took the micro-transponder between her thumb and forefinger and crushed it beneath the heavy heel of her tactical boot on the asphalt.
The tiny red light died instantly, but the silence that followed offered no relief.
"They already had our trajectory for the last twenty minutes," Megan said, climbing back into the driver's seat.
"Crushing the bug only tells them we know we're being followed."
"We have maybe four minutes before the intercept grid closes around this district."
She shifted the car back into gear, pulling out of the rail tunnel into the steady drizzle.
Nico sat in silence, staring at the shattered fragments of plastic and wire on the floor mat.
"Why didn't my grandfather tell me about Sentinel?"
"Why keep me in the dark while you were living in the servant's quarters?"
Victor spoke from the shadows behind them, his voice gaining strength despite the blood dried along his jawline.
"Because you still believed your father’s death was an accident, Nico."
"Because if I told you that your uncle was signing off on the security contracts that killed Julian, you would have put a bullet in Daniel's head seven years ago."
"And then you would have spent the rest of your life in a state penitentiary while Sentinel swallowed our entire life’s work."
Nico whipped around to face his grandfather, his voice dropping to a harsh, ragged whisper.
"My father died in a single-vehicle rollover on Route 9."
"The state police report said the steering linkage failed."
"The state police report was written by an inspector whose offshore retirement account was funded by a shell company in the Cayman Islands," Victor replied coldly.
"A shell company registered under your father's own holding firm, with Daniel's signature on the proxy line."
"I spent the last three years tracing every dollar, every wire transfer, every private security voucher."
"Sentinel wasn't hired to protect the Marino family, Nico."
"Sentinel was hired to herd us like cattle toward the slaughterhouse."
Megan checked her rearview mirror again.
Two pairs of xenon headlights had just turned into the industrial boulevard behind them, keeping a steady two-hundred-yard distance.
They weren't flashing emergency lights, but their formation was unmistakable.
It was a classic rolling pursuit box, designed to funnel target vehicles toward an ambush point without triggering civilian panic.
"We’re not going to make it to the state police barracks," Megan stated calmly, her voice level despite the rising danger.
"Those aren't patrol cars behind us."
"Those are Sentinel interceptors."
"Reinforced bumpers, run-flat tires, and four men in each cab."
Nico reached into the glove compartment of Megan’s cruiser, his hand searching for a weapon.
"Don't touch that," Megan ordered without looking away from the road.
"If you fire an unregistered weapon out of a state cruiser, every highway patrol unit in the county will have authorization to use lethal force on us."
"Then what is your brilliant police plan, Detective?" Nico demanded, his anger flaring.
"Let them pit-maneuver us into the river?"
Megan didn't answer.
She reached down and grabbed her secondary personal phone, dialing an unlisted eleven-digit number from memory.
The call connected on the second ring.
"Carter," a calm, measured voice answered on the other end.
"I’m in the industrial sector, moving south toward the docklands," Megan said rapidly.
"Primary principal is secure but injured."
"We picked up an escort."
"Two blacked-out SUVs, highly aggressive posture."
"My primary cruiser is compromised."
"I need the alternate transport at staging point Echo."
There was a brief pause on the line before Detective Aaron Blake replied.
"I’m already at Echo, Megan."
"I have the civilian sedan running."
"No municipal markings, clean plates, clean registration."
"Pull into the municipal maintenance yard off 4th Street."
"I’ll block the gate behind you."
"Copy that," Megan said, hanging up the phone.
Nico looked at her suspiciously.
"Who is Aaron Blake?"
"My partner for five years," Megan said.
"The only person in the entire department who knew my exact cover identity in your house."
"The man who pulled my father’s body out of a burning patrol car twelve years ago."
"I trust him with my life."
Victor leaned his elbows on his knees, his eyes narrowing in the rearview mirror.
"In my world, Detective, the man who pulls you out of the fire is usually the one who poured the gasoline."
"Blake isn't syndicate, Mr. Marino," Megan said sharply.
"He’s a decorated veteran."
"He doesn't care about your family’s money."
She swung the steering wheel hard to the right, cutting through an open cyclone gate into the sprawling municipal maintenance yard.
Dozens of decommissioned garbage trucks and salt spreaders stood like rusted hulks in the gloom.
Sitting near the central repair hangar was an older, unadorned gray sedan, its engine idling quietly in the rain.
A man in a heavy canvas field jacket stood beside the driver's door, a flashlight tucked beneath his arm.
Megan brought the cruiser to a halt ten yards away, killed the ignition, and unbuckled her belt.
"Move fast," she told Nico and Victor.
"Leave everything in this car."
"Phones, coats, anything with a battery."
Nico helped Victor out of the back seat, supporting the old man’s frame as they moved across the wet gravel toward the idling sedan.
Blake stepped forward, raising his flashlight to illuminate Victor’s bleeding face.
"He looks rough, Megan," Blake said, his tone flat, emotionless.
"He took a blow to the temple at the clinic," Megan said, opening the rear door of the gray sedan for Victor.
"We need to get him to a safehouse outside county lines before the state police declare an amber alert."
Blake didn't move to open his own door.
He looked past Megan, his eyes lingering on Nico Marino’s face.
"You shouldn't have brought the grandson, Megan."
Megan froze, her hand resting on the frame of the sedan's door.
"What did you say?"
Blake turned the flashlight down, pointing the beam at the wet ground between them.
"Nico Marino wasn't part of the operational parameter."
"The operational parameter was to secure the old man and let the board handle the rest."
Megan’s stomach dropped into a cold, bottomless void.
"What board, Aaron?"
"Who authorized this staging point?"
May you like
A low rumble echoed through the maintenance yard.
Behind them, through the cyclone gate they had just entered, three black tactical SUVs pulled into view, their high beams cutting through the rain to blind them completely.
