Chapter 7 - The Raid
The steel security door at the entrance of the subterranean lab blew inward with a deafening roar, sending a thick cloud of white smoke and dust billowing across the pristine white floor.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation! Nobody move!"
Through the smoke poured a tactical unit of federal marshals and local fire department rescue personnel, their automatic weapons raised, led by a familiar figure in heavy turnout gear.
"Ben!" Rachel cried out, pressing her face against the glass.
Ben Carter vaulted over a overturned computer console, his service rifle aimed squarely at the security guards who scrambled to drop their weapons as laser sights painted their chests.
"Clear the sector!" Ben roared, spotting Ethan Whitmore standing frozen by the primary console. "Federal marshals, secure that man and Dr. Cross!"
Within seconds, the laboratory was a scene of controlled chaos. Operatives in tactical gear swarmed the facility, slapping handcuffs on the corporate scientists and securing the bio-monitoring arrays.
Ben sprinted across the lab, skidding to a halt in front of Rachel’s glass cylinder. He slammed his hand against the emergency release keypad beside the door.
Hiss.
The pneumatic seal broke, and the curved glass door slid open, releasing a rush of fresh air into the enclosure.
Rachel stepped out of the cage, her legs slightly wobbly, but her posture ramrod straight. Ben caught her by the elbows, steadying her as tears of pure relief welled in his eyes.
"Are you okay, Rach? The baby?" Ben asked breathlessly, looking her over from head to toe.
"We're fine, Ben. We're both fine," Rachel said, pulling him into a fierce, tight hug. "How did you find us? I thought they wiped your memory."
"They tried," Ben grinned, a fierce, triumphant expression lighting up his soot-stained face. "The sedative they gave me must have interacted with my morning coffee and three energy drinks. I woke up tied to a chair in an alley, remembered every single word you said about the flash drive, and drove straight to the federal building on Dearborn with my helmet radio broadcasting our GPS coordinates on an open emergency channel."
Across the lab, Ethan Whitmore was shoved roughly against a steel pillar by two federal marshals, the silver-haired billionaire shouting furiously about constitutional rights and corporate injunctions.
"You can't do this!" Ethan yelled as cuffs were slapped onto his wrists. "I am a member of the mayoral advisory board! This is an illegal seizure of private property!"
"Shut up, Mr. Whitmore," the lead federal marshal snapped, reading him his rights as he shoved him toward the open freight elevator. "You're going to have plenty of time to talk to a federal judge about human trafficking, corporate espionage, and murder."
Dr. Cross was led away in handcuffs shortly after, her digital tablet confiscated as prime evidence.
As the lab technicians began downloading the remaining clinical databases into secure federal hard drives, Rachel walked over to the central console. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the small metal flash drive, and handed it to an agent in a dark windbreaker bearing the gold badge of the Department of Justice cyber-crimes division.
"Make sure every single file gets backed up off-site," Rachel instructed calmly. "There are names on there that need to be dragged into the light."
"Yes, Captain," the agent nodded respectfully. "The federal prosecutor's office has already been briefed. Warrants are being executed at Cain-Whitmore headquarters as we speak."
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Rachel took a deep breath, placing both hands over her stomach. The baby gave a gentle, rhythmic kick, as if stretching after a long storm.
The nightmare was finally over.
