Chapter 5 - The Underground Exit
-5-
The service corridors of St. Jude Memorial Hospital smelled of industrial bleach, damp concrete, and old cardboard. The fluorescent lights flickered intermittently overhead, casting long, jittery shadows across the gray cinder-block walls.
Clara hurried behind Luka Moretti, her bare feet muffled only by the thick wool socks he had tossed her before they left the room. In her arms, little Maya—the name she had whispered over her daughter’s head just minutes before—slept soundly, completely unaware that she was being smuggled through the bowels of a hospital pursued by corporate mercenaries and corrupt police.
Up ahead, Luka stopped at a heavy steel fire door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY - SUB-LEVEL 2. He pulled a small, high-tech electronic decoding device from his coat pocket, pressed it against the digital keypad, and waited three seconds for the green LED light to flash.
Clack.
The heavy deadbolt retracted with a mechanical sigh. Luka pushed the door open, gesturing for Clara to enter first.
They stepped into the subterranean parking garage. The air was thick with exhaust fumes and the damp chill of pre-dawn autumn. Rows of parked vehicles stretched out into the gloom, illuminated only by dim yellow overhead bulbs.
“Is your car close?” Clara asked, her teeth chattering slightly from the cold draft as she clutched her baby tighter against her chest.
“Over here,” Luka said, guiding her toward a matte-black Ford SUV parked deep in the shadows near the corner pillars.
Before they reached the vehicle, the screech of tires echoed sharply from the main entrance ramp of the garage. Two white police cruisers swept down the ramp with their emergency lights blazing in a blinding strobe of red and blue, tires sliding against the slick concrete as they slammed on their brakes.
Car doors flew open, and four uniformed police officers tumbled out, their weapons drawn and pointed directly toward Luka and Clara.
“Freeze! Drop your weapons! Hands where we can see them!” the lead officer bellowed, his voice bouncing off the concrete walls with deafening volume.
Clara froze, a cold wave of panic washing over her. They were trapped. There was no cover, no way out, and the police were acting under Julian’s emergency jurisdiction.
Luka didn't drop his hands. Instead, he stepped smoothly in front of Clara, placing his massive frame between her and the drawn weapons of the police officers.
“Don't move, Moretti!” another officer shouted, stepping forward with his service pistol trained squarely on Luka’s chest. “You’re in violation of federal warrant 408-B! Step away from the woman and put your hands on your head!”
Luka slowly reached inside his heavy wool trench coat.
“Don't do it!” the lead officer screamed, cocking the hammer of his weapon. “I will fire!”
Instead of pulling a gun, Luka pulled out a small, metallic badge encased in leather and flipped it open with two fingers, holding it high so the overhead light caught the holographic eagle emblem stamped across the surface.
The police officers hesitated. The lead officer squinted through the flashing strobe lights at the badge.
“Federal Intelligence Oversight Command,” Luka said, his voice ringing with absolute, unyielding authority. “Case file M-17. Stand down, officers. Your jurisdiction ends at the property line of this facility.”
The lead officer lowered his pistol by a fraction of an inch, looking back and forth between Luka and the flashing computer terminal mounted on his belt dashboard. His radio crackled to life with a frantic dispatcher's voice.
“All units, disregard the St. Jude perimeter breach. Priority override issued from the Department of Justice—repeat, federal injunction active on all personnel in Sector 4. Stand down immediately.”
The color drained from the lead officer's face. He holstered his weapon slowly, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “We... we didn't receive the override code, sir.”
“You have it now,” Luka said coldly. He opened the rear door of the SUV, helping Clara slide into the leather backseat before securing the infant car seat that was already installed and waiting inside.
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As Luka climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut, Clara looked out the rearview window.
Standing at the top of the ramp, watching from the safety of the upper level with a face twisted in absolute fury and disbelief, was Julian Sterling. He was shouting something at the police officers, but his words were entirely drowned out by the roar of the SUV’s engine as Luka put the vehicle into gear and tore out of the underground garage into the dark Columbus night.
