Chapter 13 - The Unmarked Van
The impact against the concrete sent a blinding wave of white-hot pain radiating through Marcus’s skull. His vision blurred, the harsh yellow work light fracturing into a dozen spinning halos as warm blood trickled down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt. He tried to push himself up, but a heavy tactical boot dropped squarely onto his right shoulder, pinning him flat against the cold floor.
"Easy, Officer Reed. Don't ruin a good uniform before the grand jury," a deep, gravelly voice muttered from directly behind him.
Marcus blinked hard, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. Through the haze, he watched the unmarked federal transport van roll slowly to a stop in the center of the warehouse floor. The side door slid open with a metallic screech, and two figures in black tactical gear stepped out, dragging a stretcher between them.
On the stretcher lay Maya, her face pale and exhausted, her hands still clutching the sealed medical pouch containing the micro-SD card.
"Maya!" Marcus shouted, his voice cracking raw as he struggled violently against the boot pinning him to the floor. The operative casually increased the pressure, driving his breath out in a sharp gasp.
"Marcus!" Maya cried out, trying to sit up, but one of the tactical operatives shoved her roughly back onto the mattress.
Captain Miller walked down the metal stairs with slow, measured steps, his dress shoes clicking rhythmically against the concrete until he stood directly beside the stretcher. He looked down at Maya with a polite, almost paternal smile, reaching down to gently pat the edge of the medical pouch.
"Thank you for bringing the delivery all the way, my dear," Miller said smoothly. "Officer Reed was so reckless, practically handing you the most dangerous piece of data in the city without realizing that the federal marshal frequency he used was hardcoded to route directly through our own server proxy."
Maya’s eyes widened in horror. She looked across the warehouse floor at Marcus, her voice trembling. "Marcus... I'm sorry... I didn't know..."
"You didn't know because your husband is a patrol cop playing a high-stakes chess game with grandmasters," Miller interrupted, straightening his tie. He signaled to the operatives, who immediately hoisted the stretcher up and carried it toward the edge of the open drydock slipway just beyond the warehouse doors—directly above the dark, churning waters of the harbor sixty feet below.
"Miller! Let her go!" Marcus roared, mustering every ounce of his remaining strength. He twisted his body sharply, catching the operative's ankle with a sudden sweep of his leg and sending the guard crashing hard to the concrete.
Marcus lunged forward, scrambling across the floor toward his fallen service weapon just as Miller casually pulled a polished nickel-plated revolver from his holster and pointed it squarely at Maya’s chest.
"One more step, Officer Reed, and I'll save the state the trouble of a trial," Miller said, his voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather.
May you like
Marcus froze, his hand hovering inches from the grip of his pistol. He looked from the barrel of Miller's gun to Maya's tear-streaked face, realizing he had walked directly into the exact same trap that had destroyed his father a decade ago.
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