Chapter 11 - The Digital Trap
The red warning prompt on the laptop screen flashed insistently: CONNECTION COMPROMISED - TRACE DETECTED.
Miller slammed his hand onto the side of the vintage computer tower, ripping out the Ethernet cable with a sharp, metallic screech. Sparks briefly danced across the terminal port before the screen went entirely black.
"They didn't just track Jax's burner phone," Miller growled, his face twisting in frustration as he grabbed his trench coat and began shoving the printed financial transcripts into a heavy canvas satchel. "They planted a tracking beacon in the data packet we pulled from the cloud server twenty minutes ago. They know exactly which server farm we bounced this signal from."
Clara felt the blood drain from her face. "How much time do we have?"
"Seconds," Miller said, grabbing a heavy iron crowbar from the table and tossing it to her. "Move!"
As if on cue, the heavy steel roll-up door at the far end of the warehouse exploded inward with a deafening screech of tortured metal. Headlights from three separate vehicles cut through the darkness, painting the interior walls with blinding white beams. The roar of idling diesel engines filled the cavernous space, drowning out the sound of the rain outside.
"Miller! Clara! Out the back, now!" Jax’s voice echoed sharply across the warehouse from the direction of the loading bay.
Clara didn't hesitate. She grabbed the canvas satchel containing the master ledger and sprinted after Miller toward a narrow catwalk that led up to an overhead crane maintenance platform. Below them, men in tactical gear swarmed into the warehouse, shouting orders and sweeping the aisles with high-powered rifles equipped with laser sights.
A bullet ricocheted off a steel beam just inches above Clara’s head, showering them with hot metal sparks.
"Keep moving! Don't look down!" Miller yelled, pulling himself up the rusted iron ladder with surprising speed for a man with a bad knee.
Clara scrambled up the rungs right behind him, her muscles burning with exhaustion, her mind racing. She reached the top platform just as Jax appeared from a catwalk on the opposite side, dragging a heavy canvas duffel bag.
"The exit chute leads down to the harbor tugboat slip!" Jax yelled over the mounting din of shouts and footsteps echoing from below. "If we hit the water before they pin us down, we make it to the federal marshal safehouse across the bay!"
Miller unlatched a heavy steel access hatch in the floor of the platform, revealing a dark, vertical escape chute used for routine equipment maintenance. Without a second thought, Miller lowered himself into the dark opening and slid down into the void.
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Clara looked back over her shoulder just as a tactical operative reached the top of the ladder, raising his rifle directly toward her chest.
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