Chapter 11 - The Descent into the Subways
The cool autumn air hit Ethan like a physical blow as he stepped out of the hospital's emergency exit. The tuxedo felt heavier now, the white rose on his lapel completely crushed and brown at the edges—a pathetic symbol of a life that had officially ended an hour ago. He didn't look toward the parking lot where his luxury sedan sat idling with the headlights on; Victor had been clear about the GPS tracker. Instead, he pulled the lapels of his tuxedo jacket tighter around his chest and began walking east down the crowded sidewalk, keeping his head down to avoid the digital billboards broadcasting breaking news updates about the abandoned wedding at St. Jude’s.
The city around him moved with indifferent haste. Pedestrians bumped past him, clutching coffee cups and briefcases, completely unaware that the man in the disheveled wedding attire walking beside them had just been erased from the upper echelons of society. Every siren in the distance sounded like an approaching patrol car sent by Arthur Sterling to drag him back to the fold.
He reached the subway entrance three blocks away, a grimy concrete stairwell descending into the dark, echoing underbelly of the city. The smell of damp concrete, stale exhaust, and burnt popcorn rose up from the depths. Ethan hesitated at the top of the stairs, looking down into the gloom. Turning back meant returning to Clara, to the newborn baby, to a life of poverty and permanent fugitive status under Arthur's thumb. Going down meant diving headfirst into a war he might not survive.
He took a deep breath, stepped past the rusted railing, and descended the stairs two at a time, his polished dress shoes clicking sharply against the worn concrete steps.
The platform below was dim and crowded with commuters waiting for the southbound express. The air was thick with humidity and the metallic screech of an incoming train. Ethan scanned the platform anxiously, his eyes darting from face to face.
"Looking for someone, Mr. Hayes?"
A voice spoke from directly behind his right shoulder, low and controlled. Ethan spun around sharply. Standing beside a rusted steel pillar was a tall, imposing man in a worn black trench coat, his hair silvering at the temples, wearing wire-rimmed glasses that caught the amber glow of the arrival lights. It was Victor Vance.
"You're Victor," Ethan said, breathless.
"And you're playing a very dangerous game without a safety net," Victor replied, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced paranoia. "Did anyone follow you from the hospital?"
"I don't think so," Ethan stammered. "I walked the back streets."
"Good," Victor said, grabbing Ethan by the elbow with surprising strength and pulling him toward the edge of the platform as the roar of the oncoming train filled the tunnel. "Because Arthur’s private security detail has already cleared out your apartment, and they're sweeping every hospital within a five-mile radius right now. If we don't get that encrypted drive from your office safe before midnight, you won't just be broke—you'll be in federal prison for embezzlement."
Ethan froze, the blood draining from his face as the train screeched to a halt right in front of them, the doors hissing open to reveal a crowded, brightly lit interior.
"My office?" Ethan choked out. "How are we supposed to get into Sterling Tower? My keycard was deactivated the moment I walked out of the church!"
Victor didn't answer. He shoved Ethan through the sliding doors just as they began to close, leaning in close as the train lurched forward into the dark tunnel.
May you like
"We're not going through the front door, Ethan," Victor whispered darkly. "We're going through the loading dock, using your former fiancée's personal security clearance code."
---
