Chapter 42: The Smoke of London
Chapter 42: The Smoke of London
The rain in London wasn't like the storm in Chicago. It was a miserable, heavy drizzle that clung to the soot-stained brick of the Docklands.
Sarah stepped out of a black cab outside an abandoned Victorian sugar refinery near the River Thames. She wasn't wearing an apron or a hospital gown anymore. She wore a heavy black wool coat, her hair chopped short, her eyes fixed on the entrance.
Thomas Sterling’s Aegis contacts had tracked the encrypted signal to this location.
"Inside," a mercenary whispered in her earpiece. "We've got thermal signatures on the third floor. Two guards at the door, three inside. No sign of the baby yet."
"I’m going first," Sarah said.
"Sarah, that's suicide," her father's voice cracked through the line from a safehouse in Mayfair.
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"They want me alive, Thomas," Sarah said, pushing open the rusted iron gate. "Without my living tissue signature, the final lock on the Sterling trust remains bricked. They won't shoot to kill."
She walked through the shadow of the brick archway, her hand buried inside her coat pocket. She wasn't holding the flash drive. She was holding a compact, black steel detonator she had taken from her father's armory. If she couldn't leave this city with Hope, she wouldn't leave it at all.
