Chapter 5 - THE BASEMENT BATTLEGROUND
The tension in the server room was thick enough to choke on. Toby pressed his back against the freezing metal of a data rack, trying to make himself as small as possible. His heart beat so loudly he was certain the mercenaries could hear it over the roar of the cooling fans.
Marcus crouched beside him, his expression completely detached from fear. He was analyzing the grid. He held up two fingers, pointing silently toward the far end of the aisle where two flashlight beams were intersecting.
"They’re sweeping in pairs," Marcus whispered, his lips barely moving. "Standard clearing protocol. We need to split them up. Stay here. Do not move unless I tell you."
Before Toby could object, Marcus slipped away, melting into the shadows with unsettling grace. Toby squeezed his eyes shut, praying to any deity that would listen. He was a broke college student drowning in debt, sleeping in a 2010 Honda Civic. He shouldn't be playing a deadly game of hide-and-seek with a rogue billionaire and a corporate death squad.
A sudden, sharp crash echoed from the opposite side of the massive room.
"Over there! Movement in Sector 4!" a mercenary shouted. Heavy boots pounded against the concrete as three of the men sprinted toward the noise.
The two remaining guards cautiously advanced down Toby’s aisle. Closer. Closer. Toby held his breath.
Suddenly, from the top of the server rack directly above the guards, a heavy rack-mounted battery backup unit plummeted downward. It struck the lead guard squarely on the helmet with a sickening thud, dropping him instantly. The second guard spun around, raising his rifle, but Marcus dropped from the shadows like a panther.
Marcus landed behind the man, wrapping one arm around his neck and using his momentum to drag the guard backward into the dark recess between the racks. There was a brief, violent struggle, a muffled grunt, and then silence.
Marcus stepped back out into the aisle, breathing heavily, holding a second tactical rifle. He tossed it to Toby.
Toby fumbled, almost dropping the heavy weapon. "I... I don't know how to use this!"
"You point it and pull the trigger, kid," Marcus said, dragging the unconscious guards out of sight. "But hopefully, you won't have to. We just needed their comms."
Marcus stripped a headset from one of the men and pressed it to his ear. A grim smile touched his lips. "Elias is getting desperate. He's sending the rest of his security detail to the main auditorium. He’s about to address the crowd."
"Address them?" Toby asked, bewildered. "The stage collapsed! People are trapped in the building!"
"Exactly," Marcus sneered, his eyes burning with a cold, calculating fire. "He’s going to play the hero. He’ll tell the world that a tragic mechanical failure killed me. He will assume emergency control of Zenith on live television, calming the panic, securing the investors, and cementing his takeover. It’s a masterstroke. Unless..."
May you like
"Unless what?"
"Unless a dead man walks onto that stage and tells the world the truth," Marcus said, checking the magazine of his stolen rifle. "We need to get to that analog switchboard, Toby. We have a broadcast to hijack."
