Chapter 4 - THE MICRO-FILM
“Push the counter-agent! Now!”
The doctor’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater.
I was floating in a dark, terrifying abyss. I could feel the violent, crushing pain in my abdomen as my body tried to expel my baby, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.
Then, fire raced through my veins.
The counter-medication hit my bloodstream.
I gasped, my eyes snapping open. The harsh fluorescent lights blinded me for a second.
“She’s back,” a nurse exhaled loudly. “Fetal heart rate is stabilizing. The contractions are slowing down.”
I collapsed weakly into the pillows, drenched in cold sweat, tears streaming down my face.
Julian was standing at the foot of the bed. He wasn’t looking at me.
He was looking at a young, trembling nurse pinned against the wall by two federal agents.
“Who gave you the syringe?” Julian asked.
His voice was terrifyingly calm. It wasn’t the voice of a husband. It was the voice of an interrogator who had broken stronger people than her.
The young nurse sobbed, shaking her head. “I don’t know! I swear! A man in a surgical mask handed it to me in the hallway. He said the doctor ordered it to help with her pain! I didn’t check the label, I was just following orders!”
Julian stepped closer to her.
“My mother is in federal custody,” he said softly. “She didn’t hand you that syringe. Who is still inside my hospital?”
Before the nurse could answer, the heavy wooden door to my recovery room swung open.
The two federal agents instantly reached for their weapons.
But they froze.
Standing in the doorway was a tall, elegant man with silver hair, wearing an impeccably tailored charcoal suit.
He was holding a suppressed pistol directly against the temple of the hospital’s Chief of Security.
Behind him stood four massive private military contractors, all heavily armed.
“Tell your agents to drop their weapons, Julian,” the man said smoothly. “Or the good Chief here loses his head.”
Julian didn’t move. His posture became rigid, a lethal tension coiling in his shoulders.
“Arthur,” Julian said.
Genevieve’s brother. My husband’s uncle. The man who truly controlled the family’s shadow empire.
“Drop the guns,” Julian ordered his men.
The two federal agents slowly lowered their weapons and placed them on the floor.
Arthur smiled, shoving the Chief of Security out of the way. He stepped into the room, his expensive leather shoes clicking on the linoleum.
He looked at the young, sobbing nurse pinned against the wall.
“You did wonderfully, my dear,” Arthur said dismissively. “You may leave now.”
The nurse bolted from the room, terrified.
Arthur turned his cold, reptilian gaze to me.
“I apologize for the theatrics, Sophia,” he said politely. “But Genevieve always was a bit dramatic. Pushing you down the stairs? Sloppy. I prefer a quiet, medical solution.”
“If you touch my wife again,” Julian said, stepping between Arthur and my bed, “I will rip your heart out of your chest.”
Arthur chuckled softly.
“Julian, please. You may own the building, and you may have a shiny federal badge, but you are still just a boy playing a man’s game.”
Arthur pointed the suppressed pistol at Julian’s chest.
“Your mother was a fool to keep those old ledgers,” Arthur continued. “But I am not a fool. I know exactly what you found in the silver pocket watch. The tram ticket.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “The cipher key.”
“Yes,” Arthur nodded. “The key that decrypts the digital files your lovely wife’s father stole from us twenty-eight years ago. Files that prove I bribed three federal judges.”
Arthur held out his free hand.
“Give me the tram ticket, Julian.”
“You’re surrounded by federal agents outside this wing,” Julian lied smoothly. “You aren’t walking out of here, Arthur.”
“Oh, I think I am,” Arthur smiled.
He reached into his tailored jacket and pulled out a small electronic tablet. He tossed it onto the edge of my bed.
I looked at the screen.
It was a live video feed.
An older man with gray hair, wearing a federal commander’s uniform, was tied to a chair in a dark basement. Two armed men stood behind him.
Julian’s breath hitched.
“That is Director Vance,” Arthur said casually. “Your mentor. The man who recruited you into the Treasury Department. My men abducted him from his home thirty minutes ago.”
Arthur cocked the hammer on his pistol.
“The tram ticket, Julian. Or I execute the Director on live video, and then I shoot your wife.”
Julian stood perfectly still. The agonizing calculation was visible in his dark eyes. He was choosing between his mentor’s life and the evidence that would destroy his family’s corrupt empire.
Julian reached into his pocket.
He pulled out the folded, yellow tram ticket.
“Julian, no,” I whispered. “He’ll kill us anyway.”
Julian didn’t look at me. He held the ticket out toward Arthur.
Arthur smiled triumphantly. He stepped forward to take it.
But as Arthur reached for the paper, Julian’s hand suddenly snapped back.
With blinding speed, Julian didn’t hand over the ticket. He reached directly for the heavy silver locket still resting on my bedside table.
He grabbed it, his thumb pressing hard against a tiny seam along the edge of the silver casing.
With a sharp crack, a false bottom in the watch popped open.
Arthur froze.
Falling out of the false bottom of the watch wasn’t another piece of paper.
It was a tiny, black micro-film canister.
“You want the truth, Arthur?” Julian roared, holding the micro-film up in the air.
Before Arthur could react, Julian threw the canister directly toward the open window of the hospital room.
Arthur screamed, diving across the room to catch it.
But as Arthur lunged, the tablet on my bed chimed loudly.
The live video feed of Director Vance flickered.
And then, the older federal agent in the video smiled, looking directly into the camera.
“Gotcha,” the Director said.
A massive explosion rocked the video feed, blowing the basement doors off their hinges as an FBI SWAT team flooded the room, securing the Director.
Arthur, sprawled on the hospital floor clutching the micro-film canister, stared at the tablet in absolute horror.
“What is this?” Arthur whispered.
May you like
Julian stepped forward, looking down at his uncle with pure, icy contempt.
“It was a loop, Arthur,” Julian said. “We rescued the Director two hours ago. You’ve been watching a recording.”
