Chapter 7 - Whispers in the Dark
"Now, Elena! Drop the drive and hit the gas!" Vance’s voice exploded from the back seat as he threw off the black blanket, his service weapon drawn.
But before I could react, a sudden, blinding flash of light cut through the fog from behind Arthur’s sedan. The loud, deafening roar of a police siren shattered the midnight silence as two marked cruisers tore around the corner of the container stack, their high beams pinning Arthur in place like a deer in headlights.
"Police! Drop the weapon! Drop the device!" a voice boomed through a megaphone.
Arthur didn't panic. Instead, a look of absolute malice crossed his face. "Stupid woman," he snarled, his thumb slamming down onto the red button of the transmitter.
"No!" I screamed, throwing open the driver's side door and lunging forward, completely overriding my survival instincts. My body slammed into Arthur just as he fired a small, concealed pistol toward the incoming cruisers. We both crashed down onto the hard, damp concrete of the pier.
The transmitter flew from his hand, skittering across the smooth asphalt toward the edge of the dock.
Vance and Officer Miller were out of the SUV in a flash, their weapons firing as Arthur scrambled to his feet, pulling a heavy-caliber handgun from his waist. A fierce gunfight erupted in the dark, the echoes bouncing off the metal shipping containers like thunder.
I crawled desperately on my hands and knees toward the edge of the pier, my fingers searching through the thick fog for the black transmitter. The concrete scratched my palms, but I didn't care. My eyes locked onto the small device—it was resting precarious right on the wooden lip of the dock, its little red indicator light flashing a terrible, steady crimson.
A heavy boot stepped into my field of vision.
I looked up to see Arthur standing over me, his coat torn, a dark streak of blood running down his temple where he had hit the ground. His weapon was pointed directly at my chest, his face twisted into an expression of pure, unadulterated hatred.
"You ruined everything," he hissed, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Your husband, your child, you... all of you will burn together."
CRACK.
The sound was deafening, but it didn't come from Arthur's gun.
A single, high-velocity rifle round tore through the fog from the crane tower above, striking Arthur squarely in the right shoulder. The impact spun him around violently, his weapon flying out of his hand and clattering into the ocean below. He collapsed to his knees, gasping in agony as blood quickly soaked through his expensive wool coat.
Within seconds, Vance and three SWAT officers were on top of him, pinning him to the concrete and securing his hands behind his back with heavy plastic zip-ties.
"Suspect is secured! We need a medical unit to Pier 14!" Vance yelled into his radio, before dropping to his knees beside me. "Elena! Are you hit? Are you okay?"
I didn't answer him. I grabbed the black transmitter from the edge of the dock, holding it up like a lifeline. "He pressed it, Vance! He pressed the button! The hospital—my daughter—"
Vance grabbed the device, examining the interface quickly before hitting a secondary green reset switch on the side. "Dispatch! This is Marcus! We have recovered the transmitter device at the harbor. Contact the ICU security detail immediately! Tell them to execute the manual environmental override! Do you copy?! Manual override now!"
The radio crackled for three agonizing seconds of pure static.
“Copy that, Marcus. ICU detail confirms manual override is engaged. The hospital air systems are locked down and clear. Repeat: the family is safe. The secondary attack was intercepted.”
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I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding since 3:17 p.m. yesterday afternoon. I collapsed backward onto the cold concrete, looking up at the dark sky as the fog began to clear, letting the first faint stars peek through the shadows.
We had him. The poisoner was caught, and my family was still breathing.
