Chapter 8: The Blackout
Chapter 8: The Blackout
The scream tore through the darkness.
"DADDY!"
For one impossible second, I couldn't tell where it had come from.
Then instinct took over.
"Emily!"
I lunged toward her bedroom.
The emergency lights that should have illuminated the safe house never came on.
The backup generators were dead.
Someone hadn't simply cut the power.
They had anticipated every layer of security.
Downstairs, FBI agents snapped into action.
"Night vision!"
"Seal every exit!"
"Nobody moves alone!"
Special Agent Rebecca Collins grabbed a tactical flashlight.
"It wasn't the city grid."
"Our systems were sabotaged from inside."
Mitchell froze.
"Inside?"
Collins nodded grimly.
"The backup batteries were disconnected manually."
Someone had entered the safe house before they arrived.
I reached Emily's bedroom.
The door stood open.
The stuffed rabbit lay on the floor.
The bed...
Was empty.
My heart stopped.
"Emily!"
I searched the closet.
Bathroom.
Under the bed.
Nothing.
Then...
A tiny voice.
"Daddy..."
Not inside the room.
Inside the air vent.
I dropped to my knees.
"Emily!"
"I'm here..."
"...it's dark."
I aimed the flashlight through the vent.
Two frightened blue eyes looked back.
Emily had crawled into the ventilation shaft.
"I heard footsteps."
"I hid."
Relief crashed over me so hard my legs nearly gave out.
"Stay exactly where you are."
"I'm coming."
Elsewhere in the house...
An FBI agent rounded a corner.
A shadow moved.
"Freeze!"
No response.
He stepped closer.
The figure wore FBI tactical gear.
Helmet.
Body armor.
Everything looked legitimate.
"Identify yourself!"
The figure calmly raised both hands.
Then...
A hidden blade flashed beneath the sleeve.
The agent collapsed before he could fire.
The attacker caught him silently before his body hit the floor.
No panic.
No wasted movement.
Professional.
Outside...
Mitchell noticed something strange.
The security cameras had all failed.
Except one.
Camera Twelve.
The rear garden.
She replayed the last thirty seconds before the blackout.
Nothing.
Then...
A woman walked calmly across the lawn.
Silver hair.
Black coat.
Evelyn Ashcroft.
She never hurried.
Never looked at the cameras.
Almost as if she knew exactly where each one was.
Mitchell frowned.
"Where did she go?"
The footage ended.
Back inside...
Emily refused to crawl out of the vent.
"Daddy..."
"They're here."
"No, sweetheart."
"The FBI is here."
She shook her head violently.
"Not them."
"The other men."
My stomach tightened.
"What other men?"
"The ones Grandpa called..."
She squeezed her rabbit so tightly its stitching strained.
"...the Collectors."
The word echoed in my head.
Collectors.
I had never heard it before.
But Mitchell had.
She immediately called Harold Voss from the secure hospital line.
The moment he heard the word, all color drained from his face.
"No..."
"What?"
Harold whispered,
"They sent the Collectors."
Mitchell's voice hardened.
"Who are they?"
Harold stared at the table for several seconds.
"They're not assassins."
"They're worse."
Twenty Years Earlier
Harold spoke slowly.
"When an Ashcroft heir refused to cooperate..."
"The Board never handled it directly."
"They hired specialists."
"What specialists?"
"People who erased identities."
"Children disappeared."
"Names changed."
"Birth certificates rewritten."
"Entire lives replaced."
Mitchell realized what he meant.
"They don't kill heirs."
Harold nodded.
"They make the world forget they ever existed."
Back at the safe house...
The tactical teams finally restored emergency power.
Lights flickered back to life.
Every room was searched.
Every window remained locked.
Every exterior door untouched.
No sign of an intruder.
Until Agent Collins noticed something.
One of the framed paintings in the hallway hung crooked.
She lifted it.
Behind the painting...
A narrow maintenance tunnel.
Barely wide enough for one adult.
Fresh boot prints covered the dust.
The intruder had never entered through the front.
He had been inside the walls.
Waiting.
Digital forensics examined the safe house's internal network.
Alex Rivera called Mitchell immediately.
"You need to see this."
On his screen appeared the building's electronic logs.
Every door.
Every lock.
Every camera.
Then one line caught Mitchell's attention.
Administrative Override Authorized.
Time:
11:57:42 p.m.
User:
Director Collins.
Mitchell frowned.
"That's impossible."
Collins had been standing beside her outside the gate with Evelyn.
Alex zoomed in.
The authorization didn't use a password.
It used Collins' biometric credentials.
Fingerprint.
Retina scan.
Perfect match.
Collins looked stunned.
"I never accessed the system."
Someone had cloned her identity.
Meanwhile...
Evelyn Ashcroft sat alone in a secure interrogation room.
She appeared completely calm.
Mitchell entered.
"You knew."
Evelyn looked up.
"I suspected."
"You never warned us."
"I did."
"You brought Sarah's letter."
Mitchell slammed both hands on the table.
"Emily was nearly taken!"
Evelyn's expression softened.
"They weren't trying to take her tonight."
Mitchell blinked.
"What?"
"They were testing your response time."
Silence.
"They've done this before."
"They study routines."
"Security."
"Reaction speed."
"They won't move until they're certain they can't fail."
Mitchell realized what that meant.
"Tonight was practice."
Evelyn nodded once.
"And now..."
"They know exactly how your people respond."
Just then, Agent Collins burst into the room.
"We found the dead agent."
Mitchell stood immediately.
"What?"
"He wasn't killed."
"He was drugged."
"He'll recover."
"But..."
Collins handed over the security footage recovered from the agent's body camera.
The video showed the attacker removing his helmet.
Not a stranger.
Not one of the Collectors.
Mitchell's breath caught.
It was someone every member of the task force knew.
Someone who had attended every strategy meeting.
Someone who had helped build the investigation from the beginning.
The final frame froze on his face.
Officer Daniel Harris.
The trusted responding officer from the anniversary party.
The first policeman who had comforted Emily.
The man who had stood beside Mitchell through every discovery.
As the recording ended, another message appeared on the screen.
White text.
Black background.
May you like
If you found this, you're already looking in the wrong direction.
End of Chapter 8
