Chapter 8 - THE DIGITAL STORM
Across the laboratory, every single computer monitor suddenly flashed bright red.
The main server tower hummed as high-speed data streams began uploading to the cloud.
"What is happening?!" Sterling screamed, lunging toward his tech engineer. "Shut it down! Pull the plugs!"
"I can't!" the engineer panicked, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "It’s an administrative override from an external IP! It’s uploading the hard drive's contents!"
"Where is it sending the data?!" Sterling bellowed, grabbing the engineer by his collar.
"Everywhere!" the engineer shrieked. "The FDA Public Patent Registry! The World Health Organization open-access medical database! The National Institutes of Health! And... oh God... it’s posting the full synthesis formula and raw lab data directly to a public GitHub repository!"
Sterling froze, his face draining of all color.
The three-billion-dollar exclusive patent he had spent two years trying to steal had just been made open-source public domain in less than sixty seconds. Every medical research lab, university, and pharmaceutical developer on the planet now had free, unrestricted access to Dr. Vance’s glioblastoma cure.
"You... you ruined it..." Sterling whispered, turning toward me with eyes full of psychotic rage. "You stupid, worthless bastard... you destroyed a three-billion-dollar asset!"
"No," I said, stepping backward toward the reinforced glass doors of the lab. "I made sure no dying woman ever has to pay you a single dollar again."
"Kill him," Sterling snarled to his guards, his voice dropping into a terrifying whisper. "Shoot him and smash those servers!"
Before the two armed guards could unholster their weapons, the heavy double doors of the laboratory were blown inward with a deafening CRACK!
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DON'T MOVE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
A dozen heavily armed SWAT officers in black tactical gear burst into the room, their assault rifles fitted with tactical lights illuminating the fog and dust. Behind them stepped Assistant U.S. Attorney Marcus Vance—a ruthless federal prosecutor who had been briefed sixty minutes earlier via a recorded dossier sent directly from my attorney.
"Richard Sterling!" Prosecutor Vance shouted over the blaring security alarms. "Put your hands on your head! You are under federal arrest for extortion, medical racketeering, and conspiracy!"
Sterling backed away, stumbling against the stainless steel counter, looking around at the laser sights painting his chest in glowing red dots.
"Mercer!" Sterling screamed as the federal officers tackled him to the floor, slamming his face against the polished tile. "You're dead! Do you hear me?! You're dead!"
May you like
I walked past him, ignoring his screams, and picked up the velvet case containing Claire's remaining medical doses from the counter.
I held them safely against my chest, turned my back on the falling empire of Richard Sterling, and walked out into the morning light.
