Chapter 8 - The Breach
"Mr. Vance!"
Detective Miller burst into the room, her service weapon drawn, followed by two uniformed hospital security officers. She scanned the empty crib, her eyes widening in immediate comprehension.
"They took him," I said, my voice terrifyingly calm as I stood frozen by the window. "Men using rappelling equipment from the roof. They came through the fourth-floor window."
Miller swore under her breath, holstering her weapon and rushing to the sill to look up into the dark, rain-swept cavity of the building’s exterior.
"Lock down the hospital exits," Miller barked into her shoulder radio, her face pale. "Notify port authority, state troopers, and federal aviation. Nobody leaves this county without a complete vehicle inspection."
She turned back to me, her professional composure cracking slightly. "Arthur, I am so sorry. We had patrol units stationed downstairs, but they bypassed the perimeter by descending from the roof access hatch."
"They aren't just common criminals, Detective," I said, turning away from the window and kneeling down to comfort Lily, who was still shaking in the corner. "They are professionals funded by an elite, underground genetic syndicate. They won't use the highway. They won't go through standard checkpoints."
"Then how do we find them?" Miller demanded.
I looked down at Lily, stroking her tangled hair gently. "Lily, sweetheart, did you hear them say anything before they left? Did they mention where they were going?"
Lily sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, her big eyes blinking up at me through her tears. "The tall man... the one with the scar on his neck. He dropped something when he picked up Tommy."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "Dropped what, honey?"
She reached into the pocket of her hospital gown and pulled out a small, metallic object—a sleek, cold key fob stamped with a private aviation logo and a set of GPS coordinates etched into the back casing.
I snatched it from her palm, turning it over in the harsh light.
"Falcon Ridge Airstrip," I read aloud, recognizing the name of a private, non-commercial airfield tucked deep into the dense pine forests twenty miles north of the city. Owned by a shell corporation with ties straight back to Seattle.
Miller leaned over my shoulder, reading the coordinates off the metal casing. "That’s private airspace. Federal jurisdiction. If they’re heading there to catch a charter flight out of the country, we have less than thirty minutes before they clear the FAA radar."
"Then let's not waste another second," I said, scooping Lily up into my arms and heading straight for the door.
"Arthur, you can't come with us," Miller protested, stepping into my path. "This is a tactical operation. It's too dangerous."
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"That is my son in the hands of monsters," I snarled, looking her dead in the eye with a terrifying, unyielding resolve. "You can arrest me afterward, Detective. But right now, you either help me get to that airstrip, or I go alone."
Miller stared at me for three long seconds. Then she nodded sharply, tapping her radio. "All units, mobilize. Destination Falcon Ridge Airstrip. Code three."
