The Ultimatum

I didn't drive to Corinne's. Not yet.

My phone buzzed in my lap. A new message from Sarah.

*Red alert. They moved the timeline.*

My heart stopped. I pulled over onto the shoulder of the empty highway, the tires crunching on gravel.

*What do you mean?* I typed back.

*Administrator just called. Prep for transport is tonight. 11 PM. Not Friday.*

Tonight.

I looked at the dashboard clock. 4:15 AM.

I had less than twenty hours.

*Why?* I asked.

*Because of the leak,* Sarah replied. *They know someone was in the ceiling. They found the loose tile.*

I swore, hitting the steering wheel. I had been careful, but not careful enough. My intrusion had spooked them. Arthur was accelerating the plan.

*Where are they taking her?*

*Same place. But sooner. If they move her, she's gone, Elena. Once she's out of the building, there's no paper trail. Just a body in a crematorium oven.*

I stared out the windshield at the dark road ahead. The plan to intercept the truck on Friday was dead. The plan to get Tessa to testify was too slow.

I needed to stop the transport. I needed to get inside before they moved her.

But the facility was a fortress. And now they were on high alert.

*I need a way in,* I typed. *A real way. Not a vent.*

*There isn't one,* Sarah wrote. *Security is tripled. They're checking badges at the gate and the door.*

*Then I need a distraction,* I said. *Something big.*

*How big?*

*Big enough to clear the building.*

There was a pause. Then three dots appeared.

*The fire suppression system,* Sarah wrote. *It's halon in the server room, but water everywhere else. If the main alarm goes, protocol is full evacuation.*

*Can you trigger it?*

*No. The panel is in the Administrator's office. Biometric lock.*

I closed my eyes. Another dead end.

Unless.

I thought about the ledger in my bag. The payments to the shell company. The "consulting fees."

I thought about the man who authorized those payments. Not Julian. Not me.

The Administrator.

I pulled out the ledger. I flipped to the page with the contact info for *H.B. Consulting.*

*Contact: P. Vance.*

Paul Vance. The Administrator.

I Googled him on my burner phone. LinkedIn. Facebook. Nothing. He was a ghost, just like the company.

But then I searched for his name in the public records database I used for work.

*Paul Vance. 45. Divorced. Address: 42 Oak Street, Northwood.*

And a lien on the property.

*Gambling debts.*

He owed $200,000 to a casino in Atlantic City.

I looked at the stack of cash in the safe's bag. There was at least fifty grand there. Not enough to pay off his debt, but enough to get his attention.

And I had something better than cash.

I had leverage.

I started the truck.

I wasn't going to Corinne's. I was going to Paul Vance's house.

I texted Sarah one last time.

*Be ready at 11.*

Then I drove back toward Northwood.

If they move her, I lose her.

I have to go in tonight.