Chapter 5 - Fire in the Wire
The bolt groaned, the threads locked by months of heat and corrosion.
“Come on, you bastard,” I growled, planting my boots against the frame and wrenching with everything I had.
*CRACK.*
The bolt snapped loose, the sudden release sending my knuckles smashing into the sharp edge of the steel heat shield. Pain shot up my arm, blood immediately welling up across my hand, but I didn't care. I spun the bolt out with my bare fingers and moved to the second.
From the floor above us came the heavy, deliberate thud of combat boots marching across the steel mezzanine.
“Daniel,” Claire whispered, her back pressed against the doorframe, peeking out into the corridor. “It’s two guards. They’re carrying tactical lights. They’re checking every doorway.”
“Second bolt is out,” I panted, throwing the wrench onto the third.
*Crack.*
Two more minutes. I needed two more minutes.
“Hey! Who’s down there?” a harsh voice echoed down the stairwell.
Claire stepped into the corridor, her voice ringing out like a clarion call. “I am down here, Sergeant! I ordered you to remain at the gatehouse!”
Footsteps pounded down the concrete stairs. “Ms. Whitmore, you’re in an active quarantine area without safety clearance. I have direct orders from Mr. Hendricks to secure this floor immediately. You need to step away from that lab.”
“If you take another step toward me, you are committing a felony assault on the chief executive of this firm,” she warned, her voice completely devoid of fear. She was buying me seconds with pure, unadulterated grit.
Under the test mule, I pulled the fourth bolt free.
The heavy Inconel bypass valve slipped into my bleeding hand. It weighed nearly eight pounds—a solid, precision-machined block of aerospace alloy, cold as ice, completely unyielding. I grabbed a spare Teflon gasket from the tool cart, shoved the valve into my canvas jacket pocket, and rolled out from beneath the chassis just as the two armed guards reached the threshold of Testing Cell Seven.
The lead guard had his hand resting firmly on his holstered weapon. Behind him stood Martin Hendricks’ personal administrative assistant, a thin, nervous man named Paul, clutching a company tablet with white-knuckled desperation.
“Daniel Carter,” Paul stammered, pointing a shaking finger at me. “He’s... he’s trespassing! He’s an unauthorized former employee! Take him down!”
The lead guard took a step toward me, his brow furrowed in conflict. “Sir, step away from the machinery and put your hands behind your head.”
Claire moved instantly, placing herself directly between the guard’s chest and my body.
“Touch him, and you will spend the next twenty years of your life fighting federal conspiracy charges,” she said, her voice dropping into a deadly whisper. “Paul, look at me. Does Martin know you’re down here committing treason against this corporation?”
Paul swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically between Claire and the heavy iron valve bulging out of my jacket. “Ms. Whitmore... Martin said the company was under attack. He said Carter was trying to plant evidence to destroy our municipal certifications...”
“Martin forged my signature on forty-seven lethal heating units,” I barked, stepping around Claire so Paul could see the blood on my knuckles and the absolute fury in my eyes. “One of those units is currently firing in the basement of a children’s hospital in Fort Worth. If I don't get this valve into that machine within the hour, children will die, Paul. And when the National Transportation Safety Board and the Texas Rangers pull the bodies from the rubble, Martin will throw you to the wolves so fast your head will spin.”
Paul’s face went translucent. He looked down at the tablet in his hands, then up at Claire, the terrifying reality of what he was facilitating finally breaking through his corporate loyalty.
“Is that... is that true?” the security guard asked, glancing at Paul, his hand moving slowly away from his sidearm. “Is there a defective unit at Hope Haven?”
Paul didn't speak. He just looked at the floor, his silence confirming every word.
“Give me your keys,” Claire commanded Paul.
Paul didn't hesitate. He pulled the master access ring from his belt and handed it over with trembling fingers.
“Let’s go, Daniel,” Claire said, turning on her heel.
We ran up the stairs, burst out into the freezing night, and jumped back into the Range Rover. Snow was falling heavily now, coating the windshield in thick, wet slush. Claire gunned the engine, the tires spinning on the icy concrete before gripping the pavement and hurling us out through the open gates onto the desolate interstate.
My phone rang. The screen displayed an unknown North Texas landline.
I hit the speaker button. “Daniel Carter.”
“Mr. Carter? This is Dr. Marcus Vance, Medical Director at Hope Haven,” a frantic voice cut through the cabin over the roar of the blizzard. “The corporate expediter gave us your cell phone number as the emergency engineering contact on the installation manifest. For God’s sake, we need help!”
“Doctor, what is your status?” I demanded, leaning toward the dashboard.
“The new heating unit was brought online two hours ago,” Vance said, sirens faintly wailing in the background of his call. “About fifteen minutes ago, the internal temperature alarms started screaming in the basement. The maintenance technician went down to check the manifold and said the main pressure gauge is completely pinned in the red! The casing is glowing orange, and the automated shutdown switches aren't responding! The fire department is twenty minutes away due to the ice storm, and we have thirty-four pediatric patients on high-flow oxygen in the rooms directly above that mechanical bay! If we try to move them into the blizzard, the cold shock will kill them!”
May you like
“Listen to me carefully, Doctor!” I shouted over the speaker. “Do not touch the electrical mains! Do not try to vent the pressure from the external release valves! Evacuate every single person from the first two floors immediately! Claire and I are ten minutes away!”
***
