Chapter 7
Choking on the dense, sweet chemical haze filling the courtroom, Marcus Sterling realized his bluff had failed. The automated security protocols designed to protect his corporate syndicate cared nothing for individual executives; they were programmed to incinerate all compromised assets indiscriminately. He was just as expendable as the whistle-blowers he had ordered eliminated.
"Pocket..." Sterling rasped, his voice strained and desperate as his knees buckled slightly. "Inside pocket... left breast. A micro-encryption drive."
Elena didn't hesitate. Keeping one hand clamped firmly around his collar to pin him against the witness box, she slid her other hand into the inner pocket of his tailored dark suit. Her gloved fingers brushed against smooth titanium, locating a small, ridges-engraved USB drive fitted with a biometric scanner. She pulled it free, instantly tucking the drive into a secure, waterproof pouch on her tactical vest.
Across the room, Judge Eleanor Vance had managed to wrap her judicial robe tightly around her mouth and nose, using the heavy fabric as a makeshift filter. Leaning heavily against her mahogany desk to keep from collapsing, she pointed a shaking arm toward the emergency override panel located behind the defense counsel table.
"There... manual override," the judge coughed out, her voice ragged and pained. "Break the glass... third toggle... triggers the structural fire suppression system. Water... it will flush the gas vents."
Elena released Sterling, letting him slump unceremoniously to the floor where he lay coughing violently, gasping for whatever clean oxygen remained near the marble tiles. Without looking back, she sprinted toward the indicated wall panel. Drawing her combat knife, she smashed the protective glass cover with the heavy pommel and flipped the third toggle upward with a sharp snap.
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For a terrifying second, nothing happened. Then, with a deafening roar, the ceiling-mounted fire suppression sprinklers roared to life, releasing a torrential deluge of water that instantly flooded the courtroom. The chemical fog dissolved into swirling gray puddles on the floor, washing away the toxic aerosol and replacing the suffocating air with cool, breathable humidity.
Spectators collapsed back onto the soaked benches, coughing and sputtering, clutching one another in overwhelming relief. Judge Vance sank heavily into her high-backed leather chair, drenched from head to toe, her blonde hair unravelling from its severe bun to hang in wet strands around her face. She looked down at the soaked white folder on her desk, the red stamp slightly bleeding ink into the paper, but the text remained legible.
