Chapter 10 - The Frequency
Clara stared at the blinking green light in stunned disbelief. The Civil Defense crate hadn't been touched in forty years, yet the radio inside was modern, clean, and powered by an active military lithium battery pack.
""Emily..."" Clara whispered under her breath. Emily hadn't just returned tonight by coincidence. She had prepared this house weeks in advance. This wasn't a sudden ambush; it was a staged extraction.
Clara reached into the straw and lifted the heavy plastic handset. As soon as her fingers touched the receiver, a voice crackled through the low-volume earpiece, cold and mechanical.
""Vance primary, report status. Extraction team Bravo is two minutes out from the eastern tree line. Confirm package secured.""
Clara hesitated, her thumb hovering over the push-to-talk toggle. Overhead, the heavy footsteps stopped directly above the trapdoor. The wood groaned under immense weight. Someone was standing on the oak planks, examining the iron latch.
""Mom,"" Sarah gasped from the dirt floor, her face pale as chalk in the flickering lighter flame. ""Don't... don't answer it. It's not the government. It's... it's the syndicate.""
Clara turned her head slowly, looking at Sarah. ""What are you talking about? Emily is with the Department.""
""Emily was suspended six months ago,"" Sarah choked out, tears cutting through the grime on her cheeks. ""She sold the encryption keys to a competitor in Zurich. That’s why Julian came for me tonight... he knew she was coming to take the source code by force.""
A sickening chill washed over Clara, far colder than the damp air of the cellar. Her two daughters hadn't been torn apart by tragedy or bad luck; they were fighting over the carcass of a multi-million-dollar scientific breakthrough, and Maya was caught directly in the crosshairs.
Above them, the violent roar of a gas-powered demolition saw ripped through the ceiling. The high-pitched whine of steel teeth biting into oak screamed through the cellar as sparks showered through the cracks between the floorboards. Julian’s surviving men were cutting through the trapdoor bolts.
""Maya, give me the drive,"" Clara said, her voice dropping into an icy, terrifying calm.
Maya looked up, terrified, her bloody fingers clutching the plastic case. ""Nana?""
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""Give it to me right now,"" Clara repeated, stepping toward the center of the cellar. She grabbed a heavy, rusted sledgehammer leaning against the stone foundation. ""Julian wants it. Emily wants it. Neither of them is walking out of my valley with my granddaughter’s future.""
Before Sarah could scream, Clara raised the sledgehammer above her head, ready to obliterate the hard drive against the stone floor, when the trapdoor above violently buckled inward, crashing down in a hail of splintered timber.
