Chapter 4 - High-Speed Evasion
The black SUV surged forward, closing the gap between us with terrifying speed. Its high beams flashed on, blinding us in a harsh glare of white light that cut through the misty Chicago drizzle.
“They’re trying to run us off the road,” Carter yelled, wrestling the steering wheel as our truck skidded across the slick asphalt of the industrial boulevard.
“Take the next left down the alley behind the freight yards,” I ordered, bracing my hand against the dashboard. “The clearance is too tight for an SUV. They’ll have to slow down or take the long way around.”
Carter didn't hesitate. He jerked the wheel hard to the left, tires screeching against the wet pavement as we fishtailed into a narrow, dimly lit alleyway lined with towering brick warehouses and rusted shipping containers.
The SUV tried to follow, but its wider frame clipped a metal dumpster with a deafening crash of tearing steel and sparks. It spun out and slammed into a loading platform, stalled in a cloud of radiator steam.
“Good call,” Carter breathed, checking the rearview mirror as we accelerated out onto a parallel avenue.
“That wasn't a military extraction team,” I said, my analytical mind taking over as I watched the smoke fade behind us. “Too sloppy. Too aggressive. Those were corporate mercenaries—private security contractors tied to whoever is funding the ledger recovery.”
“Which means they have local police scanners and traffic cameras wired into their tactical network,” Carter added. “We can’t go to the safe house. They’ll be waiting for us there within ten minutes.”
“Change of plan,” I said, pulling out the burner phone Carter had given me. “Drop me off near the CTA subway station on Polk Street. I have a secondary stash box in a public locker there. We need to split up. If we travel together, we’re an easy target.”
“Negative, Clara. I’m not leaving you alone out here.”
“Carter, listen to me,” I said, locking eyes with him. “You’re driving a flagged vehicle. Every traffic camera in this district is logging your plates right now. If we separate, I can slip into the transit system unnoticed. You draw their attention away toward the north side, and I’ll meet you at the old boat club on Lake Michigan in four hours.”
May you like
Carter stared at me for a long moment, weighing the tactical risk, before finally nodding. “Four hours. If you’re not there, I’m burning every contact I have to find you.”
The truck slowed near the subway entrance. I slipped out into the shadows before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop.
