Chapter 11 - The Battering Ram
The thunderous boom of a hydraulic battering ram striking the outer security doors reverberated through the concrete foundations of the laboratory, shaking dust from the ceiling fixtures and rattling the computer monitors on their mounts.
Boom!
Another heavy strike cracked the heavy steel frame of the primary entrance. The reinforced bolts were holding, but for how much longer was a matter of seconds, not minutes.
Stallone turned away from the wall safe and strode back across the room with purposeful strides. He grabbed Arthur by the front of his lab coat, lifting the older man off his feet with casual strength, and slammed him hard against the biometric scanner pad beside the safe.
"Open it," Stallone commanded, his voice a low, terrifying growl.
"I told you, Miller, I'd rather die than—" Arthur began defiantly.
Without letting him finish, Stallone grabbed Arthur’s right thumb and forced it violently down onto the glass biometric sensor pad.
The scanner flashed a harsh red light, accompanied by a sharp electronic buzz. ACCESS DENIED. BIOMETRIC MISMATCH.
"Your thumbprint isn't enough," Stallone said, his eyes narrowing. "It requires dual authorization. You and Sterling."
Jonathan crawled across the floor toward them, clutching his ribs, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "My... my thumbprint works for the secondary override," Jonathan gasped, reaching out a trembling hand. "Dad updated the registry last month to include me in case of emergency... he didn't trust the board completely."
Stallone immediately grabbed Jonathan’s hand, pulling him up and pressing his thumb onto the scanner right beside Arthur’s.
BEEP!
The scanner flashed a brilliant, steady green light. The heavy steel door of the wall safe clicked audibly, its internal hydraulic locks disengaging with a smooth, mechanical whir. The heavy steel door swung open automatically, revealing the interior compartments.
Inside sat a single, sleek silver flash drive resting on a velvet cushion, alongside a heavy stack of certified bank transfer slips bearing Judge Thomas Sterling’s official signature stamp.
BOOM!
The outer security doors finally gave way with a deafening screech of twisted metal and snapping bolts. Heavy boots flooded into the antechamber outside the broken glass partition.
"Federal marshals! Nobody move!" a gruff voice roared from the hallway, followed immediately by the tactical sweep of rifle lasers cutting through the dust.
Stallone reached into the safe, snatched the silver flash drive and the bank transfer slips, and shoved them deep into his inner jacket pocket just as the first armed operative rounded the shattered glass frame with his assault rifle raised.
"Drop your weapons! Do it now!" the operative yelled, his weapon tracking directly toward Stallone’s chest.
Arthur Vance smiled weakly from where he was pinned against the console, whispering a final warning as the armed men closed in.
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"You got the drive, Miller," Arthur rasped softly. "Now let's see how you explain it to the judge who ordered your execution."
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