Chapter 6 - The Threat in the Parking Garage
I walked out of the West Science Complex ten minutes later, the unedited video confession of Chad Sterling safely backed up on my phone and uploaded directly to my secure cloud storage.
The net was closing in. The institutional cover-up was crumbling from the inside out.
I headed toward the university parking structure off Main Street, where my truck was parked on the second level. The morning air was crisp, smelling faintly of autumn leaves and impending rain.
As I entered the concrete stairwell of the parking garage, the heavy echo of my footsteps bounced off the gray walls.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Something felt off.
In my military days, you develop a sixth sense for ambushes—a subtle shift in air pressure, an unnatural silence, the faint rustle of clothing where there shouldn't be movement.
I stopped dead in my tracks on the landing between the first and second levels.
"I know you're there," I called out, my voice echoing off the concrete. "Come out before I make you regret it."
From the shadows beneath the concrete stairwell, two heavy-set men stepped out into the dim fluorescent light. Both wore dark leather jackets, heavy boots, and blank, emotionless expressions. One of them held a heavy steel wrench casually in his right hand.
"Mr. Mercer," the larger of the two men said, his voice flat and gravelly. "Mr. Sterling sends his regards. He said you've become a severe nuisance to the university."
"Tell Arthur Sterling he can take his regards and shove them straight up his corporate portfolio," I said, dropping into a defensive combat stance.
The man with the wrench grinned maliciously. "We were hoping you'd say that."
He lunged forward, swinging the heavy steel tool in a wide, horizontal arc aimed straight at my head.
Years of military training took over automatically. I ducked beneath the arc of the wrench, stepping inside his guard, and drove the heel of my palm upward into his chin with explosive force. His head snapped back with a sickening crunch, and he dropped like a sack of wet cement.
The second man charged me instantly, tackling me hard around the waist and driving me backward into the concrete pillar. The impact knocked the wind out of my lungs, but I wrapped my legs around his waist, using leverage to flip him over my shoulder in a classic judo throw. He hit the ground hard, his head bouncing off the concrete, knocking him out cold.
I stood up, breathing heavily, adjusting my jacket. I kicked the steel wrench away across the floor, grabbed my phone, and dialed emergency services.
May you like
"Peoria Police Department," a dispatcher answered. "State your emergency."
"This is Daniel Mercer," I said, my voice steady as I looked down at the two unconscious thugs groaning on the garage floor. "I'm at the Bradley University parking structure off Main Street. Send meatwagons and patrol units. I've got two suspects in custody for attempted assault, and a billionaire's son waiting in the science lab to be arrested for orchestrating a corporate cover-up."
