Chapter 6
The high-pitched wail of the internal klaxon sliced through the quiet sanctuary of the hospital room, flashing a repetitive crimson light against the white walls. Raymond stood up instantly, his hand slipping inside his tweed vest to rest against a discreet leather holster beneath his arm. The two private security guards materialized back at the doorway, their expressions grim and alert.
"Judge Vance, we have a situation," the lead operative, a weathered former federal marshal named Miller, reported without panic. "Local law enforcement units dispatched by the county commissioner are attempting to enter the north stairwell, but hospital security has locked down the electronic mag-locks. More importantly, a secondary team of private contractors associated with Vance Global just entered through the service bay."
Elena swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing slightly as her bare feet touched the cold linoleum. She quickly grabbed her dark brown leather handbag, slinging the gold chain strap securely over her shoulder. "They're trying to trap us inside the building before we can transfer to federal jurisdiction," she said, her voice steady despite the chaotic flashing lights. "If we take the elevators, they'll cut the power. We have to use the maintenance corridor behind the laundry room."
Raymond looked at his niece with a mix of pride and lingering anxiety. "Are you strong enough to walk down four flights of stairs, Elena? We can't afford any delays."
"I am stronger than they think," Elena replied, securing the patterned hospital gown with a tighter knot around her waist and pulling on a pair of slip-on sneakers Miller handed her from a tactical bag. "Clara thought a physical blow would break my spirit. All it did was clear the fog."
Miller nodded approvingly, leading the small procession out into the corridor. The hallway was completely deserted; staff and patients had been ordered to shelter in place behind locked doors during the facility lockdown. Red emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows across the freshly waxed floors as they navigated toward the service wing.
As they rounded the corner toward the laundry bay, a heavy metal fire door at the end of the hall began to rattle violently. Someone was trying to override the security keypad from the outside. A dull, rhythmic pounding echoed against the steel barrier, accompanied by muffled shouts demanding authorization credentials.
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"Move," Raymond commanded, placing a hand on Elena’s back to guide her forward.
They slipped into the dim, humid confines of the service corridor just as the fire door clicked open with a loud mechanical pop. Through a narrow gap in the service doors, Elena caught a glimpse of two men in dark tactical gear stepping into the hallway she had just vacated, their eyes scanning the floor with cold, professional detachment. Vance Global had officially crossed the line from corporate espionage to hired intimidation.
