Chapter 8 - The Diverting Gambit
"Clara, slow down at the crest of the bridge," Ethan ordered, his fingers working feverishly to pry open the heavy clip of his wristwatch.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, easing off the accelerator just enough to keep the sedan from skidding as they hit the wet incline of the bridge.
"Arthur expects me to fold. He expects us to run like cornered animals toward the state border," Ethan said, using the sharp tongue of his watch clasp to lever open the small silver cavity inside Elena's locket. Inside sat an active beacon, a tiny red diode blinking rhythmically every three seconds. "If he thinks Elena threw herself into the reservoir to escape his private guards, he'll halt the highway sweep and divert all resources to the water retrieval."
"That will only buy us ten minutes," Clara pointed out, glancing at the shrinking gap between them and the pursuing SUVs.
"Ten minutes is the difference between my son breathing and suffocating," Ethan snapped.
Clara slammed on the brakes as the car reached the center of the rusted bridge. Ethan rolled down his window, leaned out into the biting wind, and hurled the locket toward the dark waters of the gorge fifty feet below. At the same moment, he took off his distinctive silk necktie and wedged it into the exterior iron railing of the bridge, letting it flutter like a torn shred of clothing in the gale.
"Go! Move now!" Ethan shouted, pulling himself back into the cabin.
Clara floored the pedal. The sedan surged across the remainder of the bridge and plunged into the unlit service road cutting through the dense pine forest. In the side mirror, Ethan watched the lead SUV screech to a halt on the bridge deck, its searchlights sweeping down toward the churning dark waters where the tracker was slowly sinking.
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Elena reached out and gripped Ethan’s forearm. Her grip was burning hot with fever. "Ethan... look at him. He's not crying anymore."
Ethan looked down. The baby’s chest was barely moving, and the portable oxygen meter read zero.
