Chapter 4 - The Safe House
Vincent floored the accelerator, taking a sharp left turn that sent the heavy SUV skidding across two lanes.
The fake police cruisers stayed right on our bumper, their sirens screaming through the night.
"Hold on tight, Rory," my mother whispered, wrapping her arms around me.
Vincent suddenly killed the headlights and whipped the vehicle down a narrow, pitch-black utility tunnel.
The cruisers blew past the hidden entrance, completely losing our trail in the darkness.
We drove in silence for another twenty minutes until we reached an abandoned warehouse district.
Vincent pulled into a rusted garage, hitting a button on the visor to close the heavy steel door behind us.
He led us down a flight of concrete stairs into a state-of-the-art underground bunker.
The room was filled with security monitors, weapon racks, and medical supplies.
My mother immediately grabbed a first-aid kit and began treating the bleeding wound on Vincent's shoulder.
"You saved my daughter's life today, Mr. Kane," she said softly while wrapping the bandage.
"You saved mine by pointing out the money laundering," he replied, wincing slightly.
I sat on a leather couch, pulling a crayon from my pocket and drawing on a spare notepad.
Vincent walked over and looked down at my childish scribbles.
I had drawn a picture of David's shiny new Porsche.
"He has a secret sticker on his bumper," I said, pointing to a tiny red square I had colored in.
Vincent frowned and leaned closer to the drawing.
"That is not a sticker, Rory," he whispered, his eyes widening in alarm.
"That is a long-range military tracking device."
He turned rapidly toward the security monitors mounted on the concrete wall.
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Every single camera outside the garage was currently showing dozens of armed Russian mercenaries quietly surrounding the building.
David Sterling was standing in the center of them, holding a military-grade detonator.
