Chapter 5 - Sabotage in the ER
The silence in the executive conference room was broken by the sharp chirp of the Admiral’s secure radio.
One of the NCIS agents stepped toward the door, answering the call. After five seconds, his face hardened. He looked back at Alderton.
“Sir,” the agent said rapidly. “We have an issue in the Pediatric ICU.”
Alderton stood up instantly. “What happened?”
“The telemetry grid for Room 412 just went dark. Local power trip.”
Room 412 was Lily Alderton’s room.
Sloan was out of her chair before anyone else moved. She didn't wait for the elevator; she hit the fire exit door at a dead sprint, her rubber-soled shoes gripping the concrete stairs as she descended three flights in less than twelve seconds.
When she burst through the double doors of the Pediatric ICU, the corridor lights were flickering under auxiliary backup power.
A tall man in a grey maintenance uniform was standing outside Room 412, holding an industrial tool bag. The security guard assigned to the door was sitting slumped against the wall, groggy and disoriented.
“Hey!” Sloan shouted, her voice echoing down the narrow hallway with military authority.
The man in the grey uniform snapped his head around. He didn't look like a technician—his posture was too rigid, his eyes too cold. The moment he saw Sloan charging toward him, he reached inside his canvas tool bag and pulled out a heavy steel torque wrench.
He swung it violently toward Sloan’s head.
Sloan didn't flinch. Her combat training took over instantly. She ducked beneath the arc of the steel tool, stepped inside his guard, and drove her elbow directly into his sternum.
The man gasped as the air exploded from his lungs. He stumbled back, but recovered quickly, lunging at her with a knife he pulled from his belt.
Sloan grabbed his wrist, twisting it sharply outward while driving her heel into the back of his knee. The knife clattered onto the linoleum floor. She slammed his face against the doorframe, pinning his arm behind his back with a brutal, textbook tactical lock.
Rear Admiral Alderton and his two NCIS agents burst through the double doors a second later, weapons drawn.
“On the ground!” an agent screamed.
Sloan shoved the attacker onto the floor, where the agents instantly pinned him, pulling his arms behind him and snapping heavy steel handcuffs over his wrists.
Sloan sprinted into Room 412.
Lily was lying on the bed, her cardiac monitor beeping erratically. The main IV line feeding her anti-inflammatory medication had been spiked with a secondary syringe that was still hanging from the injection port.
“Barbara!” Sloan yelled into the hallway. “Get a drug screen kit and a manual flush! Now!”
Sloan snatched the secondary syringe, smelling the distinct bitter aroma of concentrated potassium chloride—a lethal dose designed to cause cardiac arrest within minutes while mimicking a sudden natural heart failure.
She immediately clamped the IV line, stopping the toxin before it reached the child's vein.
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Out in the hallway, Alderton looked down at the unconscious attacker, then at Dr. Franklin Marsh, who had just arrived at the scene, breathless and white as a sheet.
“This wasn’t a car accident,” Alderton whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying rage. “Someone tried to kill my daughter on the highway, and when that failed, they came here to finish it.”
