Chapter 8 - The Blackout Protocol
Just as the FBI agents stepped forward to seize Sterling’s phone, the high-intensity halogen lights inside the SCIF flickered once, twice, and died.
A high-pitched emergency siren immediately pierced the darkness, followed by the dull amber glow of backup battery illumination.
“What the hell is that?” Caldwell demanded, instantly shifting his posture into combat readiness.
“Power interruption on the third-floor bus,” Captain Miller shouted, checking his tactical tablet. “The SCIF’s electronic door locks have triggered the failsafe containment protocol. We're locked in!”
Across the room, Sterling’s panic suddenly transformed into something far more dangerous. His chief counsel, Arthur, wasn't looking at his legal pad anymore. His hand was inside his jacket, and his eyes were fixed on the server access panel set into the far wall.
“Arthur, don't!” I yelled, lunging across the table.
Arthur wasn't pulling a weapon; he was pulling a magnetic degaussing wand—a specialized device designed to wipe solid-state hard drives in seconds. He jammed the device directly against the SCIF’s central communications terminal, intending to fry the live feed connecting the room to the Department of Justice server banks.
Before the wand could fully charge, General Caldwell crossed the distance between them with terrifying speed.
At sixty-two years of age, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs still had the reflexes of an airborne infantryman. Caldwell seized Arthur’s wrist, twisting it downward with a sharp, sickening crack. The degaussing wand clattered to the floor, rolling harmlessly under the table.
“Down on the floor! Now!” the FBI agents shouted, drawing their sidearms in the dim amber light.
Arthur dropped to his knees, clutching his fractured wrist, groaning in agony.
Sterling scrambled out of his chair, heading toward the private emergency egress door located behind the subcommittee dais—a door that operated on an old mechanical tumbler system independent of the building’s electrical grid.
“He's running!” Chen yelled, despite her injured arm, positioning herself to block the aisle.
Sterling shoved past her, his desperation lending him violent strength. He yanked the mechanical lever downward. The heavy steel door cracked open, revealing the narrow, dim service corridor that ran behind the Hart Building’s hearing rooms.
“Miller, Mercer, with me!” Caldwell roared, vaulting over the back of the conference chairs.
May you like
We bolted into the maintenance corridor just as Sterling disappeared around a concrete corner, his leather-soled shoes slapping violently against the metal grating.
***
