Harlan’s message sat on my screen like a live grenade.
24 hours.
Rhea, bound, eyes wide, mouth moving in a silent plea.
I killed the feed.
Ije watched me.
“They have her.”
“Or they want me to think they do.” I shoved the phone into my pocket.
“Ferryman doesn’t lose passengers.”
“People lose things all the time,” Ije said.
“Especially when AVG pays better.”
I didn’t answer.
I put the sedan on the I-5 northbound, toward Seattle.
“Where are we going?” Ije asked.
“Back to the warehouse,” I said.
“I left something there.”
“What?”
“A map,” I said.
“Of every Safe Point Harlan cares about.”
She didn’t ask how.
She just nodded.
The warehouse was dark.
Rain hissed off the loading dock.
I killed the lights and slipped inside, pistol drawn.
Nothing moved.
I flipped on a single work lamp.
The Ledger sat on the bench where I’d left it.
I opened it to the back pages.
A hand-drawn map of the Pacific Northwest.
Red circles around Safe Points.
Blue arrows marking patrol routes.
A star over Elliott Bay.
I traced the star.
“Alpha’s the hub,” I said.
“Beta was a relay.
There’s a third.
Gamma.”
Ije leaned over the map.
“Where?”
“Snoqualmie Pass,” I said.
“Mountain choke.
Controls the east-west corridor.”
She frowned.
“Why there?”
“Because it’s defensible,” I said.
“And because it’s close to a research outpost AVG built five years ago.
Supposedly for weather monitoring.”
Ije’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s not weather.”
“No,” I said.
“It’s vector testing.”
I closed the Ledger.
“We hit Gamma tonight,” I said.
“We find out if Rhea’s really there.
And we take whatever Harlan doesn’t want us to have.”
Ije didn’t argue.
She just checked her pistol.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Snoqualmie Pass was a wall of black rock and pine. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
The road wound upward, slick with rain.
We killed the headlights and drove by memory.
The outpost appeared like a ghost: a cluster of low buildings huddled against the mountain.
Floodlights.
Fence.
A single gate.
I parked in the tree line.
“Two guards,” I whispered.
“One tower.
One gate.”
Ije nodded.
“I’ll take the tower.”
“I’ll take the gate.”
We moved.
I reached the fence first.
Cut a hole with wire snips.
Slipped through.
The guard at the gate didn’t hear me until the pistol was against his neck.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
He froze.
I knocked him out with the butt.
Above, Ije’s shot was silent.
The tower guard slumped.
We met at the main building.
Door was locked.
Biometric.
Ije placed her palm on the scanner.
Green light.
Door hissed open.
Inside: cold air.
White walls.
A single corridor leading to a lab.
We moved fast.
Lab was empty.
Equipment hummed.
Freezers lined the walls.
I opened one.
Vials.
Hundreds.
Labeled: VECTOR-01 through VECTOR-50.
I opened another.
Carrier samples.
Blood.
Tissue.
DNA.
One label made me pause.
CARRIER-001: SATO, RHEA.
I snapped a photo.
Ije was at a terminal, downloading files.
“Harlan’s logs,” she said.
“Phase Two isn’t just Seattle.
It’s twelve cities.
Simultaneous rollout.”
“Timer?”
“Seventy hours,” she said.
“Same as the kill-switch.”
I closed the freezer. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“Where’s the master key?”
She hesitated.
“Zurich.
But there’s a backup.”
“Where?”
“Elliott Bay,” she said.
“Alpha.
In Harlan’s private vault.”
I smiled.
It wasn’t happy.
“Then we’re going back to the bay.”
I turned to leave.
The alarm hit.
Red lights.
Sirens.
A voice over the intercom: “Intruder alert.
Outpost Gamma.
Lockdown initiated.”
Ije grabbed the drive.
“They know.”
“Good,” I said.
“Let them come.”
We ran.
Out the door.
Into the rain.
Tires screeched below.
Headlights swept the trees.
“Down the ridge,” I said.
We slid.
Branches tore at our clothes.
We hit the road running.
The sedan waited.
I drove.
Ije rode.
No one spoke.
Until the outpost faded behind us.
Then she said: “They’ll track the drive.”
“Let them,” I said.
“I want them to follow.”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not just hitting Alpha,” I said.
“I’m hitting Harlan.”
She didn’t ask how.
She just stared out the window.
At the rain.
At the dark.
At the road ahead.
Cliffhanger: My phone buzzed.
A new message from Ferryman: “Carrier safe.
For now.
But AVG just offered me double your price.
Make it worth my while.”
Attached: a photo.
Rhea, unharmed, but a tactical standing behind her, hand on her shoulder.
The message was clear.
Trust no one.
Not even the Ferryman.