Chapter 7 - The Voice Within
Inside Room 412, a quiet revolution was taking place.
While the outside world remained completely unaware, Dr. Harris and Dr. Rostova were working around the clock using specialized neuro-assistive technology. They had attached a state-of-the-art infrared eye-tracking device to a computer monitor placed directly above Jonathan’s bed.
By focusing his gaze on specific letters on the screen, Jonathan could now construct full sentences. It was exhausting, painfully slow work that drained his remaining physical strength, but every letter typed was a hammer blow against his captors.
“V-I-C-T-O-R-I-A,” the digital voice synthesizer read aloud in the quiet room. “B-R-A-K-E-S. E-V-A-N-S-T-O-N. G-A-R-A-G-E.”
Dr. Harris watched the screen in absolute awe. “You remember the garage?”
Jonathan blinked once firmly.
“A-N-D-R-E-W. P-A-I-D. T-H-E-M,” the computer synthesized.
Marcus Sterling, who had just entered the room after securing Maria and Emily at a private safe house, stepped over to the monitor.
“Jonathan,” Marcus said, his voice grim. “We have less than twenty-four hours before Victoria’s legal team files an emergency federal injunction to overturn Dr. Harris’s medical hold. Director Vance has already barred independent state doctors from entering the hospital.”
Jonathan focused his eyes on the screen again, moving his gaze with deliberate precision.
“T-A-P-E-S,” the machine spelled out.
Marcus frowned. “Tapes? What tapes?”
“S-A-F-E. D-O-W-N-T-O-W-N. O-F-F-I-C-E. B-E-H-I-N-D. P-A-I-N-T-I-N-G.”
Marcus gasped. “You had a hidden recording system in your corporate office?”
Jonathan blinked once. Yes.
“A-U-D-I-O. T-H-R-E-E. Y-E-A-R-S. A-G-O. V-I-C-T-O-R-I-A. A-N-D. A-N-D-R-E-W. D-I-S-C-U-S-S-I-N-G. T-H-E. C-R-A-S-H.”
Marcus felt a cold surge of adrenaline race through his veins. “My God. You recorded them planning the accident before you left for Lake Geneva?”
Jonathan tracked the letters again: “T-H-O-U-G-H-T. I. W-A-S. P-A-R-A-N-O-I-D. T-H-E-N. I-T. S-A-V-E-S. M-E. N-O-W.”
“If those tapes exist,” Marcus said, turning to his head of security, “they don't just stop the court order. They prove attempted murder against both of them. But there’s a problem—Victoria has locked down the entire executive floor at Reed Enterprises. Nobody gets into your old office without her personal security keycard.”
Jonathan tracked the screen once more, a faint, resolute light shining in his eyes.
“M-A-R-I-A,” the machine spelled out.
Marcus blinked in surprise. “Maria? The custodian?”
Jonathan tracked the letters: “C-U-S-T-O-D-I-A-L. K-E-Y-C-A-R-D. A-L-L. A-C-C-E-S-S. S-E-R-V-I-C-E. E-L-E-V-A-T-O-R.”
May you like
Marcus let out a short, incredulous laugh. The high-tech, multi-million-dollar security system that Victoria had installed to guard her stolen empire had one massive flaw: it relied on the high-level master keycards held by the overnight cleaning staff to bypass the biometric locks after hours.
The very woman Victoria had fired and humiliated six hours earlier held the master key to destroying her.
