Chapter 15 - The Safehouse in Carson City
By 8:30 AM, we had crossed out of the high Sierra passes and descended into the arid, sagebrush-covered valleys surrounding Carson City. We bypassed the main commercial districts, pulling the utility truck into the overgrown gravel driveway of an abandoned agricultural supply depot tucked behind a rusted-out grain silo.
It was an old safehouse Ethan had set up years ago during my active-duty service—unlisted, unmonitored, and completely off the grid.
We killed the engine, grabbed our gear, and hurried through the creaking side door of the metal warehouse. Inside, the space was cool, dim, and smelled of old motor oil and dust. A heavy wooden workbench sat against the far wall, flanked by a secure communications terminal that Ethan had already remotely booted up from San Diego.
Chloe dropped her jacket onto a folding chair, pulling the black flash drive from her pocket and placing it gently beside the keyboard.
"Ethan," I said, tapping the comms mic. "We're inside the Carson City depot. Status on the proxy network?"
"Nodes are active across Zurich, Tokyo, and Reykjavik," Ethan’s voice replied through the room's secure speaker system. "The decentralized dead-man's switch is locked in. If anyone tries to trace the ping or if we go dark for more than twelve hours, the entire archive goes public to every federal oversight committee and news wire simultaneously."
"Good," I breathed, sliding my rifle onto the workbench and stretching my aching shoulders. "Now we wait for Harrington's next move."
"Don't expect him to wait long," Ethan warned. "Federal wire intercepts show that an Apex strike team just chartered a private flight out of Reno-Tahoe International. They know you have the drive, and they know you're heading south."
"Let them come," I said, a cold, hard determination settling in my chest. "For two years, they've operated in the shadows, destroying lives, burying evidence, and hiding behind classified red tape. It's time to drag them out into the light."
Chloe walked over to the small dusty window overlooking the gravel driveway, peering out through a crack in the weathered blinds. The morning sun was climbing higher into the pale Nevada sky, casting long, stark shadows across the empty yard.
"My uncle Marcus," Chloe said quietly, without turning around. "Do you really think he's still alive?"
I walked over to the window, standing beside her and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"Marcus was a survivor," I said softly. "If anyone could figure out how to slip through Harrington's net and stay off the grid, it was him. But the only way we find out for sure is by breaking their infrastructure."
Before Chloe could answer, the secure communications terminal on the workbench let out a sharp, high-pitched double beep.
A red warning banner flashed across the monitor screen.
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Incoming data packet detected from an unverified secure relay. Source: Washoe County Detention Facility.
Ethan’s voice cut through the comms speaker instantly, sounding sharper than I had ever heard it. "Claire... you need to see this. Your father just requested an emergency secure call from the holding facility. And he didn't ask for a lawyer."
