Chapter 35
The railway drainage tunnels were cold, slimy, and filled with a foot of slow-moving, freezing water that soaked through our boots instantly.
James led the way with a tactical flashlight, its beam heavily muffled by a red filter to avoid casting long, revealing shadows down the pipe.
Claire walked directly behind him, keeping her balance on the slippery concrete ledge while holding Ethan securely against her shoulder.
Every few minutes, the entire tunnel would vibrate faintly as heavy freight trains rumbled along the tracks high above our heads.
The air was thick with the smell of rust, sulfur, and stagnant water, making it difficult to breathe deeply without coughing.
I kept my eyes trained on the darkness behind us, listening for the sound of sloshing water that would mean a mercenary team had tracked us down.
My mind kept racing back to the countdown; three hours remained before the Black Slate data would delete itself from existence.
If that happened, Charles Brooks would get away clean, and our family would remain hunted fugitives for the rest of our natural lives.
"The tunnel is sloping downward," James noted in a quiet whisper, his flashlight beam illuminating a heavy iron junction gate ahead.
"According to the original municipal blueprints your father left, this junction connects directly to the cooling water intake for the Apex complex."
Collins stepped forward, examining the heavy iron bars that were covered in decades of thick, black river sludge and rust.
She pulled a compact pair of hydraulic cutters from her tactical pack, placing the jaws against the weakest link of the old lock.
With a muffled grunt, she pumped the handle, the metal groaning under intense pressure until the ancient padlock snapped with a sharp report.
James pushed the gate open slowly, the hinges screaming in protest as they swung back into the darkness of a massive underground reservoir.
The water here was deeper, calmer, and reflected a strange, pale blue glow coming from a series of high-voltage conduits running along the ceiling.
We had officially crossed the property line; we were now beneath the outer foundations of the Apex Global Headquarters.
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Above us lay three hundred acres of heavily guarded corporate property, hundreds of private soldiers, and a man who wanted us dead.
But we were underneath his defenses, moving like ghosts through the very veins of the machine he had built to destroy us.
