Chapter 6
The digital numbers on the laptop screen flickered in the dim, steam-filled interior of the shipping container, bleeding a harsh green light across Arthur’s weathered face. 00:04:32.
Miller stumbled into the container beside him, coughing from the residual mist and lowering his weapon as he stared at the glowing display. "What is this? Is it a bomb trigger?"
"No," Arthur whispered, reaching out with trembling fingers to touch the keyboard. "It’s a dead man’s switch. If I don't input the encryption cipher within five minutes, every offshore bank account holding the stolen Kensington fortune—and every encrypted government file detailing the black-ops funding of this entire police department—gets broadcast to every news outlet in the country."
Miller’s eyes widened in sheer horror. "You have the state department files? You have the funding trail for the department?"
"I didn't steal them, detective. I compiled them," Arthur said, his fingers flying across the keys with shocking speed and precision, entering a thirty-two-character cryptographic key from memory. "My daughter was a software engineer for the Department of Defense. She discovered that our local police force was being used as a laundering front for illegal arms shipments. They staged her car crash. They tried to kill Ellie. And they used you to trap me."
Miller staggered backward, bumping against the metal wall of the container as the weight of the conspiracy crashed down on him. "No... that's impossible. The chief... he’s a thirty-year veteran..."
"He’s a ghost on their payroll," Arthur interrupted, his eyes fixed on the screen as the countdown timer ticked down to 00:02:15. "And right now, they didn't take Ellie to a secondary location. They used her as bait to track this IP address."
Suddenly, the heavy metal door of the shipping container slammed shut from the outside with a deafening, echoing bang. The hydraulic lock engaged with a harsh, mechanical whine, plunging them into absolute pitch blackness.
"Hey! Open this door!" Miller roared, throwing his shoulder against the steel with a sickening thud.
"Don't waste your energy," Arthur’s voice echoed calmly from the dark. "The latch is electronically controlled from the outside. We just locked ourselves inside their digital trap."
A heavy mechanical hum vibrated through the floorboards beneath their feet. The container shuddered violently, followed by the unmistakable sound of a heavy crane cable hooking onto the roof.
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"What are they doing?" Miller yelled over the rising roar of a heavy diesel engine.
"They aren't killing us," Arthur whispered in the dark, gripping Barnaby tightly in his hand. "They're loading us onto a cargo ship bound international waters."
