Chapter 25 - The Clinic in Westchester
The rain fell in sheets, blurring the amber streetlights of the quiet Westchester suburb as our black town car pulled off the highway and rolled up to the wrought-iron gates of the St. Jude’s Advanced Reproductive Health Center.
The sprawling, modern medical facility looked peaceful, its manicured lawns and glass-paneled facade glowing softly against the dark woods surrounding the property. But to me, it looked like a tomb.
Arthur Vance’s SUV slid in right behind us, its headlights cutting through the downpour as four tactical agents stepped out into the rain, pulling heavy raincoats over their shoulders and checking their sidearms with practiced efficiency.
"Perimeter is secured," Arthur said, jogging over to my door and holding an umbrella as I stepped out onto the wet asphalt. "The local precinct is cooperating, but Dr. Ross's primary office is inside the high-security research wing on the third floor. Security systems are biometric. We'll have to bypass the main firewall."
"Don't bother with the firewall," I said, walking briskly toward the glass revolving doors. "Use the master override code Julian gave me in the vault. It uses my own biometric signature as the primary administrator."
Arthur blinked, surprised. "Julian kept your bio-signature active on the clinic's master grid?"
"He was arrogant enough to think I would never find out," I replied, stepping up to the glass reader. "He wanted me tied to this place forever, whether I knew it or not."
I pressed my thumb against the optical scanner and stared directly into the facial recognition lens.
BEEP.
A green light flashed across the panel, and the heavy glass doors clicked open with a sharp, pneumatic hiss.
We moved through the dark, sterile corridors of the clinic like ghosts. The emergency lighting cast long, eerie shadows down the hallways where patients had once come looking for hope, unaware that they were walking into a high-tech laundering front for corporate greed.
When we reached the third-floor research wing, the heavy oak door to Dr. Evelyn Ross’s private office was unlocked.
Arthur pushed the door open, his tactical flashlight sweeping across the room.
The office was empty, but the desk computer was still powered on, its screen glowing in the dark. A half-packed leather suitcase sat open on the sofa, stuffed with passports, bearer bonds, and printed flight itineraries to Geneva.
"She was packing," Arthur muttered, walking over to inspect the desk. "She knew we were coming."
I walked over to the computer screen. A single document was open on the desktop—an unencrypted email addressed to Richard Thorne’s legal representative, dated twenty minutes ago.
“The board has recovered the physical ledger,” the email read. “If Evelyn Vale finds the backup drive in my office safe, our entire operation goes down. I am leaving for the airstrip now. Burn the records.”
Before Arthur could reach for the safe behind the mahogany bookcase, a sharp click echoed from the adjoining laboratory door.
I spun around just as the door swung open, revealing Dr. Evelyn Ross standing in the doorway, holding a small, silver-plated revolver steady in her right hand.
May you like
Her face was pale, her hair disheveled, but her eyes were cold, calculating, and completely unhinged.
"Put your hands where I can see them, Mrs. Vale," Dr. Ross said, her voice trembling slightly, yet carrying a lethal edge. "Or this ends right here, in the very room where it all began."
