Chapter 11
The security guard barely had time to register Clara's presence before she moved with decisive, stunning speed. Remembering the precise defensive mechanics David had casually mentioned during their drive, Clara ducked low beneath the guard’s outstretched arm, slamming the heavy base of her flashlight directly into the joint of his knee.
The guard let out a sharp gasp of pain, his leg buckling beneath him as he pitched forward onto the slick concrete. Before the second guard could unholster his sidearm from his tactical belt, David closed the distance with terrifying velocity, bringing the heavy industrial wrench down in a swift, controlled arc that struck the second guard's shoulder and knocked him off balance into a stack of rusted spare pipes.
Within three seconds, both security operatives were neutralized, unconscious on the damp floor of the steam tunnel.
Clara stood breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling beneath the maroon cardigan, the flashlight clutched tightly in her right hand. She looked down at her hands, feeling a strange mixture of adrenaline and profound disbelief at what she had just accomplished.
David quickly stripped the guards of their encrypted communication radios and access keycards, tossing one set to Clara. "Good form," David whispered approvingly, his dark eyes registering genuine respect. "You handled yourself like a veteran."
"I'm a mother protecting her family," Clara replied, her voice steady and devoid of hesitation. "Let's keep moving before their comms units auto-ping a missed status check."
They scrambled up the vertical iron ladder, shoving open the heavy spring-loaded maintenance hatch with an access card. The hatch swung upward into a sterile, brightly lit basement archive room lined with towering rows of black server racks and humming cooling units. The air here was freezing cold, smelling faintly of ozone and heated silicon.
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David rushed to the nearest central terminal, plugging his portable bridge cable into the master data port, while Clara stood guard at the double doors, her flashlight beam sweeping across the empty corridor beyond.
"I'm into their core database," David muttered, his fingers blurring across the keyboard. "Mark's personal drive is still active on the local intranet. He's being held in the secure executive interrogation suite on the top floor."
