Part 19
They bypassed the main highways,
taking back roads,
sneaking into Seattle through the industrial district.
Julian drove to an old warehouse,
owned by a friend,
who asked no questions.
Inside,
the air was dusty,
smelling of rust and old oil.
He set up a makeshift workstation,
on top of some wooden crates,
and connected to a pirated satellite signal.
"Signal is weak,
but it will work," he muttered,
typing furiously.
Eleanor stood guard by the door,
watching the empty street,
through a crack in the metal siding.
"How long?" she asked,
checking her watch.
"Ten minutes to upload,
then I set the timer," he replied,
his eyes glued to the loading bar.
The silence in the warehouse,
was deafening,
broken only by the hum of the generator.
Suddenly,
a black SUV pulled up,
at the end of the street,
its lights off.
"Julian," she whispered,
her heart leaping into her throat.
"We have company,
hurry."
He glanced up,
sweat dripping down his face.
"Eighty percent,
just give me two more minutes," he pleaded.
Four men stepped out of the SUV,
dressed in tactical gear,
carrying suppressed weapons.
They were moving silently,
like ghosts,
sweeping the area.
"They found the signal,
they triangulated us," he realized,
cursing under his breath.
"Ninety percent."
Eleanor grabbed a heavy iron pipe,
from the ground,
gripping it tight.
She knew it was useless against guns,
but she refused to die,
without a fight.
The men approached the warehouse door,
stacking up on the sides,
preparing to breach.
"Done!" Julian shouted,
hitting the enter key,
hard.
"The dead man's switch is active,
twenty-four hours on the clock."
He slammed the laptop shut,
shoved it into his backpack,
and grabbed his pistol.
"Out the back,
now," he ordered,
pulling her toward the rear exit.
They burst through the back door,
into the damp alley,
just as the front door exploded inward.
Gunfire erupted,
muffled thwips hitting the crates,
tearing through the wood.
They ran blindly,
down the alley,
slipping on the wet pavement.
Julian fired two shots behind them,
suppressive fire,
forcing the attackers to take cover.
They reached the next street,
hijacked a parked delivery truck,
and Julian hot-wired the ignition.
The engine roared to life,
and they tore away from the curb,
leaving the shadow team behind.
Eleanor leaned back against the seat,
gasping for air,
her hands trembling uncontrollably.
"We did it," she panted,
looking at him.
"We bought ourselves some time,
but now," Julian said grimly,
"we have to play our final card."
The game had shifted,
May you like
from defense to offense,
and Elias Thorne was next.
