Chapter 11 - The Anacostia Annex
The heavy armored vehicle swerved violently across the empty asphalt of the Anacostia naval annex as Julian wrestled the assault rifle away from the first guard, the metal barrel slamming hard against the interior wall with a deafening clatter. Evelyn ignored the chaos erupting around her, her fingers working with desperate, practiced speed to slip Julian’s lockpick into the keyway of her steel handcuffs. With a sharp click, the right shackle sprang open, followed immediately by the left.
She surged to her feet just as the second guard managed to recover his balance, swinging the butt of his sidearm toward Julian’s head. Evelyn didn't hesitate; she leaped across the aisle, driving her heel hard into the guard's knee joint with a sickening crunch. The man collapsed with a muffled cry, hitting the reinforced steel floor hard as the transport vehicle slammed violently to a halt against a row of concrete barricades outside an abandoned warehouse.
The rear doors flew open, flooding the dark cabin with blinding daylight and the sharp, salty air of the riverfront.
Standing outside the open doors, flanked by four armed military police officers with their weapons drawn, was General Whitaker. His expression was no longer calm or polite; it was a mask of cold, unmitigated fury.
"It seems I underestimated your father's stubbornness, Captain," Whitaker said, resting his hand casually on the holster of his service pistol as he stepped closer to the edge of the transport ramp. "Did you really think a pair of standard-issue handcuffs was going to stop a court-martial for treason?"
Julian struggled to his feet beside Evelyn, his knuckles bruised and his tuxedo jacket torn at the shoulder, but his posture remained unyielding. "You're out of time, General. The entire classified ledger was uploaded to the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence three minutes before we left the estate."
Whitaker laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed off the corrugated metal walls of the dilapidated warehouse. "The Senate committee? Commander, the chairman of that committee is currently sitting in my private office drafting the press release announcing your posthumous dishonorable discharge for corporate espionage."
He signaled to the armed guards, who instantly raised their rifles, stepping up the ramp to encircle Evelyn and Julian.
"Take them inside the warehouse," Whitaker ordered coldly. "And make sure the incinerator is running at maximum temperature."
Before the guards could grab their arms, a deafening roar ripped through the sky above the naval annex. Three heavy black tactical helicopters bearing the unmistakable insignia of the Department of Homeland Security swept low over the treeline, kicking up a massive cloud of dust and debris as they hovered directly above the compound. A powerful loudspeaker mounted on the lead aircraft crackled to life, echoing a voice that made Whitaker freeze in his tracks.
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“General Thomas Whitaker, drop your weapons immediately. You are surrounded by federal agents under the direct authority of the Attorney General.”
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