Chapter 11 - The Glass Cage
Sirens began wailing in the distance, cutting through the storm outside. Chaos erupted inside the ballroom as Manhattan’s elite scrambled for the exits, pushing past security guards who were already realizing their paychecks had just vanished into thin air.
Down in the server level, Sarah blew out the magnetic lock of the emergency access hatch with a micro-charge. Smoke billowed into the shaft as she pulled David through the opening just as a hail of automatic gunfire chipped the concrete wall behind them.
"We have to reach the roof!" Marcus shouted over the comms. "The street grid is completely sealed by NYPD and Special Agent Miller’s rogue FBI detail. They aren't here to arrest Eleanor—they're here to execute everyone involved before the press arrives!"
Sarah and David hauled themselves up the ladder of the secondary utility trunk, their lungs burning. They broke through the heavy rooftop door into the driving rain, thirty stories above the avenue. The wind tore at their clothes.
A black, unmarked helicopter hovered low over the helipad, its searchlight blinding them.
"Drop your weapons!" a voice boomed from the chopper’s loudspeaker. Special Agent Miller stood in the open bay door, a military-grade rifle strapped across his chest. "Mr. and Mrs. Vance, you are suspected of corporate terrorism. Step away from the ledge!"
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"He’s not taking us alive, David," Sarah whispered, her eyes locking onto the helicopter’s tail rotor.
"He doesn't want us alive," David said, pulling a flare from his tactical jacket. "He wants the drive."
