Chapter 9: The Ghost in the Machine
The synthetic voice of the DOJ override echoed hollowly in the quiet motel corridor, sending a chill down Maya's spine that had nothing to do with the biting autumn wind.
"Stand down?" Maya muttered aloud, staring at her comms unit as if it were a venomous snake. "That's an unauthorized clearance code. Who the hell just overrode our tactical frequency?"
Down in the parking lot, Agent Williams slammed his car door shut and jogged up the metal stairs, his flashlight cutting a harsh beam through the lingering haze of drywall dust and gunsmoke. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Jesse bleeding out on the concrete and the green pulsing light emitting from the open duffel bag.
"Maya, what is going on?" Williams demanded, his hand resting nervously on his sidearm. "HQ just locked us out of our own encrypted network. My badge ID is showing as inactive in the database."
"Mine too," Maya replied grimly, keeping her field bandage pressed firmly against Jesse’s shoulder to stem the flow of dark blood. "Someone high up inside the executive branch just hit the panic button to wipe their own tracks. They aren't trying to recover the ledger anymore—they're trying to bury it, along with everyone standing on this walkway."
Clara looked up from Jesse, her eyes wide with fresh panic. "If our badges and IDs are dead, what happens to us? Where do we go?"
"We don't go anywhere until we stop him from bleeding out," Maya said, her voice brooking no argument. "Williams, grab the duffel bag and get your car around to the rear service door. We're taking him off the grid to a safe house I set up outside Burlington."
"That's twenty miles through state police checkpoints, Maya," Williams warned, his face pale in the flashlight beam. "If our credentials are flagged, every cruiser on the interstate is going to treat us as hostile targets."
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Before Maya could issue an order, Jesse’s hand shot out with surprising strength, gripping her wrist in a tight, clammy grasp.
"Don't... go to Burlington..." Jesse wheezed, his eyes wide and fixed on a dark sedan slowly cruising past the motel entrance on the highway below. "They... own... Burlington... Go... to... the... old... grain... elevator... by... the... railyard..."
