Chapter 6
Miller’s hand extended, palm up, waiting for the flash drive that Clara clutched desperately in her fist. The blue-and-white striped shirt she wore was stained with dust from the struggle at the door, and her wire-rimmed glasses were slightly askew, but her gaze remained fixed and defiant. Behind Miller, two other security operatives held Mrs. Gable firmly by the arms, though the older archivist refused to cower, glaring at the intruders with unyielding contempt.
"You’re too late, Miller," Clara said, her voice trembling slightly but carrying a clear ring of triumph. "The backup files have already cleared the municipal gateway and are sitting in the hands of federal investigators. If you touch me, or Mrs. Gable, the digital dead man’s switch releases the encryption keys automatically."
Miller paused, his thick fingers curling into a fist. His eyes darted toward the flickering green monitor, calculating the risk. He knew that corporate security could handle a localized leak, but a federal subpoena backed by unassailable digital evidence meant the end of the entire executive tier. He took a slow step closer, his shadow falling over Clara like a physical weight.
"You think a digital file saves you?" Miller scoffed, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Victoria doesn't play by courtroom rules, Clara. She owns the judges, she owns the regulatory boards, and long before those federal investigators can read a single page of your little files, accidents happen in this city every single day."
Before Miller could lunge forward, the shrill ring of the ancient rotary telephone on the desk pierced the tense silence of the room. Everyone froze. Miller stared at the heavy black phone as if it were a venomous snake. Clara slowly reached out her trembling hand and lifted the heavy receiver off its cradle.
"Speak," a familiar, ice-cold voice echoed through the earpiece before Clara could utter a word. It was Victoria.
"I know you’re listening, Clara," Victoria’s voice purred with terrifying composure. "Miller has my standing orders. You can run to the press, you can run to the feds, and you can hide behind stubborn old women in dusty basements, but you cannot outrun the reality of what you signed away when you took our money. You are just as guilty as I am. Your signature is on the compliance waivers for Leanne’s containment unit."
Clara felt the breath leave her lungs as if she had been punched in the stomach. The compliance waivers. She had forgotten about those initial intake documents—the ones where she had formally certified that the experimental area was secure, knowing full well it was a death trap.
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"I was wrong," Clara choked out, tears spilling over her glasses. "I was terrified of losing my job, but what you’re doing is monstrous."
"Monstrous is a matter of perspective," Victoria replied smoothly. "Meet me at the plaza tower in one hour. Alone. And we’ll discuss how much of your conscience you can salvage before the morning news cycle." The line went dead with a sharp click.
