Chapter 6 - The Federal Target
The laptop began to smoke, emitting a high-pitched mechanical whine.
Damian slammed the lid shut and threw the computer across the room.
"Get down!" he yelled, throwing himself over Clara.
The laptop battery exploded in a shower of sparks and burning plastic.
"They fried the hard drive," Clara coughed, waving smoke away from her face.
"Worse," Damian corrected, helping her up from the floor.
"They used the connection to ping our exact location."
Sirens began to wail in the distance, growing louder by the second.
Red and blue lights flashed through the small, dirty windows of the basement.
"The police are already here," Walter panicked, clutching his chest.
Damian pulled a heavy assault rifle from a hidden weapons cache in the wall.
"They aren't regular police," Damian said, looking through a crack in the blinds.
"The Mayor sent the federal SWAT team to eliminate us."
He handed Clara a smaller handgun and shoved extra magazines into his pockets.
"I don't know how to use this," Clara said, her hands trembling around the grip.
"Just point it at the door and pull the trigger if anyone who isn't me comes through," he instructed.
Damian led them toward a rusted iron door at the back of the bakery.
It opened into the old prohibition-era smuggling tunnels that ran beneath the city.
They ran through the dark, damp tunnels for what felt like hours.
The sound of heavy boots and barking dogs echoed faintly behind them.
They finally emerged in an abandoned subway station miles away from the bakery.
Clara sat on the edge of the platform, burying her face in her hands.
"The flash drive is destroyed," she cried in defeat.
"I ruined my life, and we don't even have the proof to clear Walter's name."
Damian knelt beside her and gently lifted her chin.
"I never rely on a single piece of technology," Damian told her softly.
He reached into the lining of his expensive coat and pulled out a small, physical black ledger.
"While you were driving the forklift, I took this from Preston's coat pocket," Damian revealed.
Clara's eyes widened as she looked at the leather-bound book.
"It contains the handwritten account numbers and passwords for the Mayor's offshore accounts," Damian explained.
Walter let out a long sigh of relief.
"We can still win," the old man whispered.
Damian nodded, but his expression remained completely serious.
"Yes, but to use this ledger, we have to physically break into the Mayor's private bank."
Clara looked at him like he was entirely insane.
"You want to rob a bank?" she asked in disbelief.
May you like
"No," Damian smirked, checking his weapon.
"I want to rob the most secure vault in Chicago, and the gala celebrating its grand opening is tonight."
