flash
Grant Ellison’s rich, velvet-smooth laugh echoed through the eighty-two floors of the glass tower, ricocheting off crystal chandeliers and marble walls. He swirled the aged scotch in his glass, the golden liquid catching the ambient light of Manhattan below. / Chapter 6 / 8

Chapter 6 - GAMBIT IN THE DARK

CRACK!

The aging iron pipe shattered under the heavy blow. High-pressure water burst out in a blinding, torrential spray, spraying straight into Victor’s face and flooding the basement floor in seconds.

Victor cursed, dropping his guard for a second as he wiped the stinging water from his eyes.

“Now, Agent Reed!” Mia screamed.

Agent Reed burst through the basement door behind Victor, tackling the fixer into the rising water. The two men crashed into the brick wall, fighting violently for the weapon. Gunshots echoed off the wet concrete walls—BANG! BANG!

Nora grabbed Mia, pulling her toward the old storm doors at the back of the basement that led up to the street alleyway. She hit the rusted latch with all her strength. The iron doors burst open, letting in the cool night air and the glare of the rain.

They scrambled up the stairs into the alley, panting for breath.

Behind them, Agent Reed stumbled out of the basement, holding his bleeding shoulder, but holding Victor’s weapon. “Go!” Reed yelled, coughing. “Get to the federal building! I’ve already flagged emergency backup!”

Nora didn't wait. She grabbed Mia and ran out into the rainy Brooklyn street.

They ran three blocks until they reached a busy avenue where yellow cabs were speeding by. Nora threw her hand up in desperation. A cab screeched to a halt beside them.

“Get in!” Nora cried, shoving Mia inside and sliding in behind her. “Lower Manhattan! 500 Pearl Street! The Federal Courthouse! Fast!”

The cab driver stepped on the gas.

Nora fell back against the vinyl seat, gasping for air. Her clothes were soaked, her knees were bruised, but she reached into her jacket pocket and felt the cool, square edges of the hard drive. It was still there.

She looked at Mia. The little girl was looking out the window, watching the rain streak across the glass.

“Are you okay, Mia?” Nora asked, her voice cracking.

Mia turned to her mother. “I’m okay, Mom. But Grant isn't going to wait for us at the courthouse.”

“What do you mean?”

Mia held up her small hands. “A bad player doesn't defend when he’s losing. He tries to flip the board.”

Nora’s phone suddenly buzzed in her purse. It was an unknown number.

Nora answered it, placing it on speaker.

“Hello, Nora,” Grant Ellison’s voice came through the speaker, devoid of his usual arrogance, replaced by a cold, desperate venom.

“It’s over, Grant,” Nora said, her voice shaking with rage. “I have the hard drive. We’re on our way to the Federal Prosecutor right now.”

Grant laughed—a dry, chilling sound.

“You think this is about a hard drive, Nora? Look out your driver’s window.”

Nora glanced up at the cab driver.

The man in the front seat reached up, pulled off his rain cap, and looked at her in the rearview mirror.

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