Chapter 10
Z
Panic erupted in the quiet archive room.
"GET DOWN!" I screamed, lunging across the table and shoving Mara to the floor just as a muted THWACK-THWACK shattered the silence. Bullets ripped through the heavy oak tabletop, sending splinters of wood flying into the air.
Library patrons screamed, throwing themselves under desks as books tumbled from the shelves.
"Run!" I yelled, pulling Mara toward the narrow emergency stairwell exit at the back of the archive room.
Evelyn Vance didn't make it. As she tried to scramble toward her briefcase, one of the gunmen grabbed her by the hair, throwing her brutally to the marble floor.
"The cards!" Mara gasped as we sprinted. "Irene, the press passes!"
I grabbed the laminated press credentials and the index card off the floor where they had dropped, shoving them frantically into my sweatshirt pocket as we burst through the heavy red emergency exit door.
We threw ourselves down the concrete stairs, our footfalls echoing wildly through the enclosed stairwell. Behind us, heavy footsteps and shouting filled the shaft as the gunmen pursued us.
"Out the side entrance!" I yelled, taking the stairs three at a time.
We burst through the ground-floor fire exit into a busy, rain-slicked alleyway in downtown Chicago. Sirens were already wailing in the distance as pedestrians on the street corner turned to stare at us in confusion.
We didn't stop. We hurled ourselves into the thick crowds walking along Michigan Avenue, disappearing into the dense sea of commuters, yellow taxis, and city buses.
We ran four blocks until our lungs burned so hot we couldn't take another step. We ducked into the crowded basement entrance of a bustling subway station, sliding into the shadowy corner near an automated ticket kiosk.
Mara leaned against the tiled wall, sliding down to the floor, her body trembling so violently she could barely speak.
"They were waiting for us..." she sobbed, clutching her knees. "Evelyn's phone was tapped... Thorne knew every move we were making."
"He knew about the library," I gasped, wiping sweat and rain from my face. "But he doesn't know we got the code. He doesn't know we have the press passes."
I pulled the laminated passes and the index card from my pocket. They were crumpled, but intact.
7-4-1-9-0-2.
"Irene..." Mara looked up at me, her eyes filled with a terrifying realization. "We can't go to the courthouse tonight. Evelyn is compromised. The federal authorities might be compromised too. If Thorne intercepted Evelyn's phone, he knows we were planning to meet the U.S. Attorney."
"I know," I said quietly, leaning my head back against the cold subway wall.
The entire trap was laid out before us now. Thorne was waiting for us to make a mistake. He was watching the courts, the police, and my home. He thought he had blocked every escape route.
"So what do we do?" Mara asked, her voice dropping to a low, desperate whisper. "Where do we go?"
I looked down at the laminated press pass in my hands.
THORNE FOUNDATION ANNUAL GALA - LAKE FOREST ESTATE - 8:00 PM.
A cold, fearless clarity washed over me, burning away the last remnants of the timid, heartbroken widow I had been when this nightmare began.
"We stop running, Mara," I said, my voice as hard as cold steel. "Thorne thinks we're prey. He thinks two women who lost everything are going to hide in the dark until his men hunt us down."
"Irene..." Mara whispered, sensing the dangerous turn in my thoughts. "What are you saying?"
"We're going to his gala tonight," I declared, looking directly into her eyes. "We're going into his house, using his code, opening his safe, and taking the paper ledger."
"And then?"
"And then, in front of every news camera, every politician, and every wealthy donor in Chicago... we broadcast the contents of that flash drive to the entire world."
Mara stared at me, speechlessly. For several long seconds, the roar of an approaching subway train rattled the station floor beneath our feet.
Slowly, the horror on Mara's face transformed into something else—a fierce, unstoppable smile born from shared grief and shared resolve. The daughter of the man who lied to us both stood up, straightening her rain-soaked coat.
"Zane spent his life keeping us apart, Irene," Mara said, reaching out to clasp my hand tightly. "He built a wall of secrets to protect himself."
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"Then tonight," I replied, squeezing her hand in return, "his daughters and his wife tear that wall down together."
The subway train screeched to a halt in front of us, its doors sliding open with a heavy mechanical hiss. We stepped aboard, stepping out of the shadows and into the light, ready to face the storm that awaited us in Lake Forest.
