Chapter 4 - The Trigger and the TruthTime seemed to fracture into slow motion.
I saw the white flash of Victor’s thumb descending toward the touch-sensitive glass of the tablet. I saw Dante raise his tactical carbine, hesitating for a fraction of a second because a stray bullet might ricochet off the concrete and strike the exposed explosives behind the utility box.
And I saw Roman—the feared, untouchable kingpin of the Midwest—throw himself forward with terrifying, animalistic speed, lunging across the ten feet of open gravel separating them.
Before Victor’s thumb could complete the downward press, Roman collided with him like a freight train. The impact sent both men crashing hard against the concrete floor, sending the digital tablet spinning through the air in a glittering arc of plastic and glass.
The tablet hit the ground with a sickening shatter, the screen fracturing into a spiderweb of white light. But the red digits didn't disappear.
01:45... 01:44... 01:43...
“Dante! Cut the master breaker!” Roman roared, pinning Victor to the floor with a knee pressed brutally into his chest while his hands wrapped around the older man’s throat.
Dante sprinted toward the main power box on the wall, throwing the heavy industrial lever downward with all his weight. A massive electrical spark hissed through the damp air, followed by a loud, groaning pop.
The harsh glare of the halogen work light flickered once, twice... and then plunged the entire subway junction into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
For three agonizing seconds, the only sound in the underground cavern was the heavy, ragged breathing of the men struggling in the dark, the steady drip of water from the ceiling, and the relentless, mechanical beeping of the backup detonator somewhere behind the electrical panel.
00:15... 00:14... 00:13...
“I’ve got the manual bypass!” Dante’s voice cut through the dark, tight and strained. I heard the sharp screech of metal being pried apart, followed by a frantic rustle of wires.
“Roman!” I screamed, fumbling wildly in my coat pocket for the stun pistol he had given me. My fingers closed around the cold plastic grip just as I heard a heavy scuffle erupting on the floor nearby.
In the faint, ghostly embers of the dying digital screen, I saw Victor—freed by a sudden, desperate twist—driving a heavy combat knife straight up toward Roman’s ribs.
Without thinking, without calculating the consequences, I whipped the stun pistol out of my pocket, aimed directly at the struggling silhouette, and pulled the trigger.
A blinding blue arc of high-voltage electricity ripped through the darkness with a deafening crack, illuminating the entire subterranean tunnel in strobe-like flashes.
The electrical charge struck Victor squarely in the shoulder. His body went rigid in mid-air, his eyes rolling back as a sharp, choking cry escaped his lips. The combat knife slipped from his fingers, clattering uselessly against the concrete. A second later, he collapsed limp onto the floor, completely unconscious.
The silence that followed was absolute, heavy, and suffocating.
00:03... 00:02... 00:01...
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Then, with a heavy, metallic click, the red digital numbers on the shattered panel flickered out.
The timer had stopped.
