Chapter 18 - The Pursuit
The rain began to fall as I left the Mercer Dynamics tower, a dark, heavy downpour that matched the storm brewing within the corporate structure. I drove through the slick streets, my eyes constantly checking my phone, which was mounted on the dashboard.
Ten minutes into the drive, a text message from Sophia flashed on the screen:
Jenkins’ corporate phone just pinged a cell tower near the industrial harbor district. Specifically, Pier 14. Her corporate credit card was used thirty minutes ago at a twenty-four-hour diner in that area.
The harbor district. It was an area of sprawling warehouses, shipping containers, and industrial docks—the perfect place for a quiet rendezvous or an exit from the city. If Sarah Jenkins was at Pier 14, she wasn't just hiding; she was meeting someone. Most likely, a courier sent by Victoria Vance to retrieve the physical master drive before the federal authorities could lock down the digital networks.
I pushed the rental car to its limits, navigating the dark, industrial roads that wound along the riverbank. The towering silhouettes of cargo cranes loomed through the rain like giant metal monsters.
I turned onto the access road for Pier 14, turning off my headlights to avoid alerting my target. The area was deserted, save for a few parked semi-trailers and a single, black luxury sedan idling near the edge of the pier, its exhaust curling into the damp night air.
I parked behind an empty shipping container, slipped out of the car, and pulled my coat collar up against the biting rain. I moved swiftly and silently, utilizing the shadows of the containers to approach the idling sedan.
Through the rain-streaked windows of the luxury vehicle, I could see two figures. In the driver’s seat sat a man in a dark suit—likely a private security guard or a courier employed by Victoria Vance. In the passenger seat sat a woman with blonde hair, her face illuminated by the glow of a laptop screen.
It was Sarah Jenkins.
She was holding a rugged, industrial external hard drive, connecting it to the laptop. A progress bar on the screen indicated that she was executing a final verification transfer—likely ensuring the stolen propulsion data was uncorrupted before handing it over to the courier.
I didn't have time to wait for the police to arrive. If that transfer completed and the courier drove away, the leverage against Claire would be absolute.
I stepped out from behind the container and walked directly toward the driver’s side window. I reached into my coat pocket, wrapping my fingers around a heavy, metal tactical flashlight I always kept in my glove box. Through the fabric of my coat, the shape resembled the profile of a small handgun.
I slammed the flashlight casing hard against the driver’s window, the sharp metallic crack echoing over the sound of the rain.
"State Police!" I yelled, my voice commanding and authoritative, tapping into the muscle memory of a twenty-year career. "Keep your hands where I can see them! Turn off the engine now!"
The driver startled, his eyes widening in terror as he looked at the silhouette of my hand inside my coat pocket. He instinctively reached for his belt, but the sheer authority in my voice froze him.
"Don't do it," I warned, stepping closer, my eyes fixed on his hands. "Keep them on the steering wheel. Miss Jenkins, close that laptop slowly and step out of the vehicle with your hands above your head."
Sarah Jenkins panicked. She didn't close the laptop; instead, she grabbed the external hard drive, ripped the USB cable out, and threw herself against the passenger door, scrambling out into the pouring rain on the opposite side of the car.
"Hey! Stop!" I shouted.
The driver, realizing I was distracted by Jenkins' flight, slammed the sedan into reverse, the tires screeching against the wet asphalt as he backed away from me at high speed, turning the wheel and tearing down the access road, leaving his accomplice behind. He was a courier, not a martyr; he wasn't going to get arrested for Victoria Vance's corporate espionage.
Sarah Jenkins was left running down the dark pier, clutching the hard drive to her chest. Her high heels slipped on the wet wood, and she fell heavily near the edge of the dock, the hard drive skittering across the planks, stopping just inches from the churning, black river water below.
I walked toward her, the tactical flashlight now out of my pocket, its powerful beam pinning her against the darkness. She lay on her side, soaking wet, shivering with fear and exhaustion, looking up at me with wild, desperate eyes.
"Don't move, Sarah," I said, my voice calm but absolute.
I walked past her, reached down, and picked up the rugged external hard drive. It was cool, metallic, and contained the entire future of my daughter’s company. I slipped it securely into my inner coat pocket.
"It’s over," I said, looking down at the terrified secretary. "The driver left you. Victoria Vance isn't coming to save you. And the police are already at the entrance of the harbor."
As if on cue, the distant wail of sirens began to echo through the industrial complex, accompanied by the reflection of red and blue lights bouncing off the wet shipping containers.
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Sarah Jenkins broke down, burying her face in her hands, weeping against the rain. "She told me I wouldn't get caught," she sobbed. "She said it was just a civil matter... she said the Mercer family owed her brother's firm..."
"The Mercer family is gone, Sarah," I said, standing over her as the first police cruiser pulled onto the pier, its headlights illuminating the scene. "And Victoria Vance is about to join them."
