Chapter 6 - The Ghost Protocol
Leaving Mercer Tower was not a matter of simply walking out the front lobby. If Vance’s private extraction team was circling the block, any standard departure would trigger an immediate ambush.
Marcus led the way down the service stairs to the sub-basement, three levels below the parking garage. Adam carried Maya, who was wrapped in a heavy winter coat, her head tucked safely into his shoulder. She didn't ask questions; fear had taught her an unnatural, heartbreaking obedience.
"Where are the cars?" she whispered into Adam's ear, feeling the chill of the concrete corridors.
"We aren't taking a car, Maya," Adam replied softly. "We're taking a secret passage."
The sub-basement connected to an abandoned maintenance tunnel built in the 1930s during the expansion of the Sixth Avenue subway line. Adam had purchased the easement rights five years ago during the tower's construction, reinforcing the tunnel as an off-the-books emergency evacuation route.
Marcus flicked on a heavy tactical flashlight, illuminating the damp brick walls. At the end of the hundred-yard corridor stood an armored steel door that opened directly into the basement of an adjacent commercial bakery on 41st Street.
The scent of rising yeast and industrial ovens washed over them as Marcus popped the hydraulic latch. The night-shift bakers, engrossed in their work and deafened by the roar of dough mixers, didn't even look up as three figures slipped out through the loading bay door into the alley.
A plain, nondescript commercial delivery van was idling by the curb, snow caked on its faded white panels.
Behind the wheel sat Chloe Vance.
She was twenty-eight, brilliant, and possessed the sharp, razor-thin facial structure of her estranged father, Julian Vance. But unlike Julian, Chloe had severed all ties with the Vance empire three years ago after discovering financial discrepancies that pointed toward human trafficking in overseas subsidiaries.
"Get in," Chloe said, not looking back as she shifted the van into drive. "Hurry. The street cameras on this block have been cycling on five-minute diagnostic loops. That means Julian's private security team has compromised the city’s traffic grid."
Adam climbed into the cargo bay, setting Maya gently onto a bench seat fitted with seatbelts. He handed the MicroSD card to Chloe through the partition.
"David left this," Adam said. "He says Julian is conducting human trials for neural mapping. He mentioned something called Project Chimera."
Chloe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Her reflection in the rearview mirror was pale with horror.
"Chimera isn't just a research paper, Adam," Chloe said, her voice trembling. "Three months ago, dad transferred four hundred million dollars to an offshore biotech subsidiary in upstate New York. I thought it was tax fraud. But if David was hiding Maya... Adam, Maya isn't just David's daughter."
May you like
Adam frowned, his stomach dropping. "What are you talking about?"
"David’s wife—Elena's sister—she wasn't just sick when she died four years ago," Chloe revealed, glancing back at the sleeping child. "She was the lead geneticist on Vance’s synthetic neuro-pathway team. Maya was born with a modified genetic sequence that makes her immune to the neural decay Vance's software creates. Julian doesn't want to adopt her. He wants to dissect her."
