Chapter 11: The Ticking Flame
As the federal agents secured the headquarters, Special Agent Miller pulled Victor aside. "Mr. Vance, we have Beatrice’s digital logs, but the incendiary units in the East District were already dispatched two hours ago. They are operating on a manual radio trigger scheduled for 6:00 PM."
Victor checked his watch. It was 5:15 PM.
"The ignition source is located in the basement of the old Saint Jude Community Center," Victor said, his memory flashing back to Michael’s blueprints. "The gas mains for the entire district intersect beneath that building. If that blows, the entire neighborhood goes up."
"We're mobilizing our tactical units," Miller said, reaching for his radio.
"They won't make it through rush hour traffic in forty minutes," Victor said, grabbing his car keys. "I designed the structural grid. I know how to shut down the regional safety valve manually."
Victor sprinted out of the building, ignoring the throng of reporters yelling questions at him.
He drove with reckless urgency through the gridlocked city streets, hopping curbs and dodging oncoming lanes, the clock relentlessly ticking toward 6:00 PM. The faces of the people living in the East District—families, children, the elderly—flashed through his mind.
May you like
He had spent over a decade ignoring them, viewing them as numbers on a financial projection. Now, their lives were the only balance sheet that mattered.
---
