Chapter 3 - The Midnight Flight-3-
The van screeched out of the alleyway, the tires spitting gravel as I navigated the narrow streets of Lomas de Chapultepec. Alejandro was shivering in the passenger seat, his expensive suit now torn and smelling of dust. He looked like a man who had suddenly woken up in a nightmare he had helped build.
"Where are we going?" he stammered.
"To the one place they won't look," I said, my eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. The black SUVs had peeled away from the curb and were now trailing us, their high beams cutting through the fog like searchlights. "We’re going to the depot in the Industrial District. It’s the only place with a hard-wired secure line that isn't connected to the Ruta Norte server."
"Elena said you initiated the kill-switch," Alejandro whispered. "You burned it all down, didn't you?"
"I burned the parts that were compromised," I retorted. "You, on the other hand, you burned everything else."
I took a sharp turn, nearly losing the SUVs on a tight hairpin curve. I knew these streets better than any driver in the city; I had planned the transit routes myself. I hit the accelerator, the van roaring as it climbed the hill toward the warehouse district.
"Alejandro, listen to me," I said, my voice cutting through his panic. "Those files you sold—they aren't just logistics. They’re the key to a chain of custody that tracks high-value goods. If they use that data to intercept those shipments, the authorities won't just look for thieves. They’ll look for the inside man. That’s you."
He looked at me, his face pale. "I can fix this. I can tell them—"
"You can't tell them anything," I said. "You’re the liability. They’re going to kill you to close the loop."
We reached the Industrial District. It was a labyrinth of steel containers, looming warehouses, and forgotten loading bays. I drove into the shadows, killing the headlights. I knew the layout—the blind spots, the service entrances, the underground tunnels where we moved freight when the city traffic was at a standstill.
I stopped the van inside a container bay and killed the engine. The silence was heavy.
"Get out," I said.
We scrambled out, the cold air biting at our skin. I grabbed a flashlight from the glove box and signaled to the overhead crane. It groaned into motion, moving a stack of crates to reveal the hatch I had installed years ago.
"What is this?" Alejandro asked, staring at the hidden entrance.
"This is the reality of the business you thought you were running," I said. "This is where the real work happens."
We descended into the sub-basement. It was a bunker, lined with servers and monitors—a mirror image of the company’s main office, but completely off the grid. This was the heart of the operation I had built—the monitoring system for the entire distribution chain.
I sat at the terminal and began typing, my fingers flying over the keys. I needed to isolate the breach. I needed to see exactly how much Alejandro had given away.
"Alejandro, log in," I said. "I need your credentials."
He hesitated. "My credentials don't work. You suspended them."
"I suspended the corporate ones," I said. "But the back-door keys? The ones you created when you thought you were clever? I never deleted them. I just monitored them. Log in."
He walked over, his hands trembling. He typed in his code, and the screen flashed. The data stream opened.
It was worse than I thought. He hadn't just sold the schedules; he had sold the encryption keys for the mobile tracking units. Every shipment in the country was visible to the cartels. They could intercept the vaccines, the electronics, the medical supplies. They could essentially hold the country's supply chain hostage.
"My God," he whispered, staring at the screen.
"You didn't just sell the company," I said, turning to him. "You sold the stability of the entire region. You did this for a few million dollars in a Cayman account? You have no idea what you’ve done."
I stood up, the anger flaring again. "And now, we have to fix it. We’re going to flood the network with fake tracking data. We’re going to give them a trail that leads straight to a dead end. And you’re going to be the one to broadcast it."
"They’ll know it’s me," he argued.
"Exactly," I said, a cold smile forming on my lips. "They’ll think you’re still working for them, and they’ll follow the data right into the trap I’ve set. And while they’re chasing the ghost, we’re going to disappear."
"We?"
"You don't get to run, Alejandro. You’re coming with me. We have a lot to talk about, and the police aren't going to be our only problem."
Outside, the SUVs pulled into the lot. The sound of doors slamming echoed through the warehouse. They had found us.
"They’re here," Alejandro whispered.
May you like
"I know," I said, pulling a weapon from under the desk. "And they’re about to find out that the lady of the house isn't just a logistics expert. I’m a combat strategist."
The hunt had begun, and for the first time in his life, Alejandro was going to see exactly who he had married.
