Chapter 4 - The Secrets of the Safehouse
Two hours later, deep within the frozen wilderness, Graham huddled his makeshift family inside a derelict, abandoned hunter's cabin he had located using the GPS on his phone before the signal died.
The cabin was freezing, but it offered shelter from the biting wind and the mercenary drones buzzing overhead like mechanical hornets.
Graham barricaded the door with a rotting wooden table. He built a small, smoke-free fire in the hearth using dry kindling, providing just enough warmth to stop Toby and June from shivering. The two children, completely exhausted by trauma, eventually fell asleep on a pile of old burlap sacks, holding each other tightly.
Clara sat near the fire, her hands wrapped around a cup of melted snow Graham had prepared.
Graham sat across from her, the leather journal resting between them like a ticking time bomb.
"Talk," Graham said, his voice flat and unyielding. "Who are you, Clara? And how do you have my wife’s diary?"
Clara looked at the fire, the flames reflecting in her unnaturally calm blue eyes.
"My mother was the head nurse at the private medical wing of McKenzie Global," Clara said softly. "A year ago, she discovered they brought a woman in secret after a staged car crash. It was your wife. Eleanor wasn't dead, but they told the world she was. They kept her heavily sedated because she found out that Marcus Vance was weaponizing the satellite communication network your company built."
Graham’s blood ran cold. The McKenzie Network. It was a global satellite system designed to provide free internet and medical tracking to developing nations.
"Why keep her alive?" Graham asked, his fist clenching.
"Because the satellite encryption keys are locked to her biometrics," Clara explained. "Her DNA, her retina, her voice. Marcus couldn't access the weaponized drones without her. My mother tried to help her escape. Eleanor gave my mother this journal and taught me the lullaby, telling me that if anything happened, I had to find you on the commuter train you take every month to your mother's farm."
Clara’s voice cracked. "Two days ago, they caught my mother. She hid me in the train station. I've been running ever since."
Graham opened the journal to the middle pages. It was filled with schematics of the Blackwood Facility, codes, and names of corrupt board members. But the final page contained something else—a hand-drawn map of the facility’s lower levels, and a note written directly to him:
"Graham, my love. If you are reading this, it means Clara found you. They think I am weak, but I am holding out the encryption keys. They are going to initiate the global lockdown on the 16th. You have less than twenty-four hours. Save our children. Don't come for me."
Graham looked up from the page, his eyes burning with a terrifying resolve.
"Today is the 15th," Graham whispered.
Suddenly, the satellite phone inside the brown bag vibrated violently.
The screen illuminated with an unknown, encrypted number. Graham answered it, pressing the device to his ear.
"Graham," a familiar, smooth voice chuckled through the speaker. It was Marcus Vance. "I must admit, I underestimated your survival instincts. The train crash was supposed to be neat. But now you're making things difficult."
May you like
"Marcus," Graham spat, his voice laced with pure venom. "I am going to strip you of everything you own before I bury you."
"A bit dramatic for a man sitting in a rotting cabin, don't you think?" Marcus replied smoothly. "Look out the window, old friend."
