Chapter 13 - Blood on the Airwaves
""That lying bastard,"" Julian whispered, his fists clenching until the nails dug into his palms, breaking the skin. ""He's using the entire state police force as his hunting dogs.""
""It's a brilliant move,"" Frank said grimly, tying off a tight bandage around Sarah’s shoulder. She groaned in her delirium, tossing fitfully on the wooden bench. ""Every trooper from here to Maine is looking for Eleanor’s car. When they pull her over, Richard’s private team will be monitoring the police band. They’ll get to her before the troopers even process the registration.""
""I need a car, Frank,"" Julian said, his voice flat, stripped of fear, replaced by a cold, calculating fury. ""And I need an encrypted satellite phone.""
Frank turned, wiping his bloodstained hands on a greasy rag. He walked over to a dark corner of the warehouse, pulling back a heavy canvas tarp to reveal an old, unmarked black sedan—a surplus government interceptor, stripped of badges, with reinforced bumper bars and dark tinted glass.
""She’s got a clean plate and a full tank of high-test fuel,"" Frank said, tossing a set of keys through the air. Julian caught them with a single hand. ""There's an FBI field office in Manchester, seventy miles north. Special Agent Davis was Thomas’s contact before they murdered him. Davis is an old man now, but he’s still the Assistant Special Agent in Charge. He won't roll over for Sterling money.""
Julian nodded, slipping the keys into his pocket alongside the cassette tape. ""What about Sarah?""
""She stays here with me,"" Frank said, racking the slide of his shotgun with a sharp, echoing snap. ""No one gets through that steel door unless they bring heavy artillery. Go get your family, Julian. Finish what your real father started.""
Julian sprinted to the driver’s side of the black interceptor, sliding behind the wheel. The big V8 engine roared to life with a deep, thunderous vibration that rattled the warehouse walls. Frank hit the mechanical wall switch, and the rear iron shutter rolled upward into the rain.
Julian dropped the transmission into drive, stomping the accelerator. The tires shrieked against the smooth concrete before biting the asphalt of the alleyway, rocketing the sedan out into the storm.
He picked up the encrypted phone Frank had left on the passenger console, dialing the emergency number Eleanor’s brother had memorized for the Oakhaven cottage. The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.
Just as the call went to voicemail, the connection clicked. A breathy, terrified voice whispered into the speaker: ""Julian?""
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""Eleanor! Are you inside the cabin?""
""Julian, they're here,"" Eleanor wept, her voice trembling in absolute terror. ""There are four men with flashlights walking through the pine trees behind the porch. Lily and I are hiding in the root cellar, but the dog is barking... oh God, Julian, they're on the porch!""
