Chapter 5 - THE HARBOR PROTOCOL
The underground tunnel was freezing, smelling of ancient river mud and petroleum.
Nathan kicked open the heavy iron hatch at the end of the corridor, revealing a hidden boathouse nestled into the jagged rock face of Long Island Sound. The black water lapped against the hull of an unmarked, twin-engine midnight interceptor boat.
A hulking man with a shaved head and a scar bisecting his left eyebrow stood at the helm, an assault rifle slung across his chest.
"Boss!" Roman called out, dropping the safety on his weapon when he recognized Nathan. "I have the Prussian blue. And two emergency field kits."
"Get the engines running," Nathan ordered, setting Marcus onto the cushioned leather bench inside the cabin.
I laid Mason down next to his brother and immediately tore open the medical kit Roman handed me.
My hands worked with practiced speed. I mixed the insoluble Prussian blue powder into sterile suspension fluid, drawing the blue-tinted liquid into two large oral syringes.
"Hold Marcus's head up," I instructed Nathan. "Keep his airway open. If he aspirates, we lose him."
Nathan held his son with unimaginable gentleness. The man whose signature commanded billions and whose word dictated life or death in the underworld was trembling as he cradled the six-year-old’s neck.
"Come on, buddy," Nathan whispered, his voice cracking. "Listen to Sarah. Drink it."
I carefully depressed the plunger, administering the suspension in small, controlled increments down Marcus's throat, massaging his esophagus to trigger the swallowing reflex. Once Marcus swallowed, we turned to Mason.
Mason’s pulse was dangerously erratic. His skin had taken on a mottled, greyish hue.
"He’s slipping into ventricular tachycardia," I said, checking his carotid artery. "His potassium levels are tanking."
"Sarah, do whatever you have to do," Nathan pleaded, his eyes locked onto mine. "Save him."
I grabbed an ampoule of calcium gluconate and a pre-loaded pediatric epi syringe from the kit. "This is going to stabilize his heart membrane, but it’s going to hurt."
I injected the stabilization agent directly into Mason's central thigh muscle.
For ten agonizing seconds, nothing happened. The boy lay limp, his chest barely rising.
Then, Mason let out a sharp gasp. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing cloudy brown eyes that searched the dim cabin.
"Daddy...?" Mason wheezed, his voice weaker than paper.
Nathan fell to his knees beside the cot, pressing his forehead against his son’s tiny hand. Tears broke through his iron facade, spilling hot and silent onto the boy's fingers. "I’m here, baby. Daddy’s right here. You’re going to be okay."
"We need a secure location," I said, wiping sweat from my brow as Roman throttled the engines, sending the black boat cutting silently through the midnight fog. "Ashford was only the executioner. The person who funded this operation had access to your private security codes and medical blueprints. The leak is inside your inner circle, Nathan."
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Nathan lifted his head. The tears were gone, replaced by a terrifying, arctic darkness.
"There are only four men on my executive council who had access to the mansion's HVAC blueprints," Nathan said coldly. "And by sunrise, I will have all four of them in a room."
