Chapter 23: The Capital of Shadows
Chapter 23: The Capital of Shadows
"Get in!!" Maya Lin screamed from the taxi cabin, leaning across the passenger seat and throwing the door wide open.
Elena didn't look back. She dove headfirst into the front seat, her body shielding Leo as the iron bar wielded by David smashed violently against the taxi’s rear window, shattering the glass into a thousand silver fragments.
David roared in frustration, his claw-like hands reaching through the broken window, trying to grab the straps of Leo’s carrier.
Maya slammed her foot on the accelerator. The taxi’s tires spun violently on the wet asphalt, smoking as the vehicle launched forward. David was dragged for three feet before losing his grip, tumbling onto the dark highway behind them, his screams of rage fading into the thick mountain fog.
Elena pulled herself up, checking Leo immediately. The baby was startled, crying loudly, but uninjured. "Oh God... he’s unstoppable. He’s a monster."
"That was David Vance?" Maya asked, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel as she pushed the old taxi to ninety miles an hour down the winding mountain road. "He looks like he crawled out of a house fire."
"He did," Elena said, her voice shaking as she plugged the hardware drive into her inner pocket to ensure it was secure. "He survived a chandelier, a burning warehouse, and a shotgun blast. He won't stop until he kills me and takes the baby."
"Well, he’s going to have a hard time tracking us now," Maya said, turning off the main highway onto a narrow, gravel farm road that cut through the valley. "We’re entering Virginia through the back roads. No cameras, no automated toll booths. We’ll be in Washington D.C. by dawn."
"What do we do when we get there?" Elena asked, leaning her head against the cold passenger window, her body completely spent. "Arthur Vance has the FBI looking for us. We're fugitives."
"Not everywhere," Maya said, pulling out an encrypted satellite phone and tossing it into Elena’s lap. "The drive you have contains the global ledger. But to make it legal, we need to deliver it directly to the Independent Oversight Committee at the Hart Senate Office Building. Senator Thomas Reyes is the chairman. He’s one of the few politicians who has never taken a dime from the Vance Trust. If we can put the drive in his hands on live television, Arthur Vance’s protection disappears instantly."
"Can we trust him?" Elena asked, her voice hollow. "Everyone we’ve trusted has ended up dead or compromised."
"We don't trust him because he’s good, Elena. We trust him because he’s running for President next year, and bringing down the Vance cartel is the biggest political goldmine in a decade," Maya said realistically. "He’ll protect you because you are his winning ticket."
Four hours later, the dark outline of the Washington Monument emerged against the gray, rainy dawn sky. The capital city looked cold and imposing, its grand marble buildings casting long, sharp shadows across the wet streets.
Maya parked the taxi in a subterranean parking garage three blocks from the Capitol complex. The garage was dark, smelling of damp concrete and car exhaust.
"We go in through the press entrance," Maya said, pulling a pair of media credentials from her bag and hanging them around Elena’s neck. "The security at the main gate is crawled with Capitol Police, and Arthur’s men might have alerted them. But the press corps has an independent security bypass. Keep your head down, keep the boy covered."
They walked out into the chilly morning rain, blending into the crowd of morning commuters and congressional aides hurrying toward the massive stone steps of the Hart Building.
As they entered the grand, marble atrium, the air was buzzing with activity. News crews were setting up cameras, and aides were rushing between offices.
"Senator Reyes's office is on the fourth floor," Maya whispered, guiding Elena toward the elevators.
The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside with two other congressional staffers. As the elevator began to ascend, Elena’s phone—the burner phone she had kept from Marcus's cabin—vibrated in her pocket.
It was a multimedia message from an unlisted number.
Elena clicked it open with a trembling thumb. It was a live video feed.
The camera was positioned inside a sterile, white hospital room. Sitting in a chair, his face covered in fresh surgical tape but his gray eyes wide and sharp, was Arthur Vance. He was smiling directly at the camera.
Beside him, strapped to a medical bed with an oxygen mask over her face, was Sarah.
Elena’s heart stopped. Her breath left her lungs in a sharp, agonizing gasp.
"Sarah..." Elena whispered, her vision blurring. "No... she was dead... I saw her heart stop..."
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A text message appeared below the video clip: Arthur Vance’s private medical team has the best resuscitation equipment in the world, Ms. Hayes. Her heart stopped for three minutes, but we brought her back. She is alive. For now. If you step onto the fourth floor and hand that drive to the Senator, I will order the technician to disconnect her oxygen line on live television. The choice is yours. The fortune, or your sister’s life.
The elevator bell dinged softly. The digital display changed to the number: 4. The doors began to slide open, revealing the bright, crowded corridor of the Senator’s executive suite.
