Chapter 2 - The Backdoor Exit
Alex did not wait to see the weapons hidden beneath their expensive jackets.
He shoved his laptop into his backpack and flipped the heavy wooden table directly toward the approaching men.
The deafening crack of a silenced gunshot shattered the ceramic coffee mug he had been holding seconds earlier.
Hot coffee and jagged porcelain exploded across the leather booth.
Panic immediately erupted inside the small cafe as innocent customers screamed and dove for cover.
Alex used the utter chaos to sprint toward the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms and the rear exit.
His heart pounded wildly against his ribs as a second bullet embedded itself into the drywall right next to his head.
He slammed his full body weight against the heavy metal exit door and stumbled out into the freezing, rain-slicked alleyway.
He did not stop running until his lungs burned and his expensive sneakers were soaked with dirty city puddle water.
He needed to contact his co-founders immediately.
Ben and Sarah were the only other people who understood the absolute danger of the neural-routing algorithm.
Alex pulled out his phone and dialed Ben's personal number, his hands shaking violently from the adrenaline.
The call went straight to a generic, automated voicemail.
He hailed a passing yellow taxi and ordered the driver to speed toward Ben's upscale apartment complex across town.
The ride felt like a torturous eternity as Alex constantly checked the rear window for any pursuing black SUVs.
When he finally arrived, the opulent lobby was completely empty, and the security guard was nowhere to be seen.
Alex bypassed the front desk and took the service stairs directly to the fourteenth floor.
The door to Ben's apartment was already unlocked, sitting slightly ajar in the quiet, carpeted hallway.
Alex pushed it open slowly, calling out his friend's name into the dark, silent living room.
There was no answer, only the eerie, rhythmic beeping sound coming from the kitchen island.
He stepped cautiously into the room, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the expensive blinds.
Ben was not there, but his prized desktop computer had been completely smashed into useless pieces on the hardwood floor.
Alex moved toward the kitchen counter, drawn by the persistent, high-pitched electronic beeping.
Sitting next to the coffee maker was a sophisticated, military-grade explosive device wired directly to the apartment's gas line.
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The digital timer on the front of the bomb was glowing bright red.
It displayed exactly three seconds left until detonation.
