Chapter 9 - The Hostage
Marcus froze, his finger resting on the trigger of his rifle.
Director Vance smiled, a cold, calculating expression.
“I am very disappointed in you, Marcus.”
“You were supposed to protect the operation.”
Ethan’s helicopter lifted off the helipad, the wind whipping Claire’s hair violently around her face.
Ethan looked down at her through the glass window, smirking in triumph as he flew away.
“Drop the weapon, Marcus,” Vance repeated, cocking the hammer of his revolver.
Marcus slowly lowered the rifle and let it clatter onto the tar roof.
“You’re a traitor, Vance,” Marcus spat.
“I am a pragmatist,” Vance corrected smoothly.
“The cartel pays me twenty million a year to ensure their supply lines remain unbothered by federal agencies.”
“Claire’s little temper tantrum tonight cost me a lot of money.”
Vance grabbed Claire by the arm and yanked her toward the edge of the roof.
“I don't need you alive anymore, Mrs. Cole.”
“Ethan will bring the key to the airport, and my men will reset the system.”
He shoved her violently against the concrete parapet wall.
Forty-two stories of empty air yawned behind her.
Claire looked down at the dizzying drop, her heart pounding furiously.
“Any last words?” Vance asked, leveling the gun at her chest.
“Yes,” Claire said, locking eyes with the corrupt director.
“You should have learned how my software actually works.”
Vance frowned in confusion.
Claire reached into her pocket and pulled out the small remote detonator Marcus had given her in the stairwell.
She pressed the single red button.
The explosive charge Marcus had quietly planted on the roof access door detonated brilliantly.
The shockwave knocked Vance off his feet.
Marcus lunged forward, tackling the director to the ground and wrestling the gun from his hand.
Vance punched Marcus in the jaw, scrambling to pull a backup weapon from his ankle holster.
Claire didn't hesitate.
She picked up Marcus’s discarded assault rifle, aimed it at Vance’s leg, and pulled the trigger.
The recoil knocked her backward, but the bullet shattered Vance’s kneecap.
Vance screamed in agony, dropping his weapon.
Marcus stood up, panting heavily, and kicked the gun away.
“Nice shot,” Marcus breathed, wiping blood from his lip.
“My father taught me how to shoot,” Claire replied, her hands shaking as she dropped the heavy rifle.
They zip-tied Vance to the ventilation pipe.
“Ethan has a fifteen minute head start to the airport,” Marcus said, checking his watch.
“We don't have a helicopter.”
Claire looked out at the Chicago skyline, her mind processing the variables with terrifying speed.
“We don't need a helicopter,” Claire said coldly.
“Ethan thinks he is flying to O'Hare airport.”
“But I am the one who designed the automated flight routing software for the entire Cole Meridian corporate fleet.”
She opened her laptop and connected it to the rooftop satellite array.
“I am overriding his autopilot right now.”
She typed a series of commands, redirecting the helicopter’s destination.
“Where are you sending him?” Marcus asked, a grin spreading across his face.
May you like
Claire hit the enter key with a satisfying click.
“Directly into the courtyard of the FBI regional headquarters.”
