Chapter 8 - The Confrontation
The control room was dominated by a large glass window overlooking the main server vault on Sub-Level 2. Through the glass, I could see two technicians frantically disconnecting drive arrays from a massive mainframe tower, while a man in a pristine military trench coat watched over them with an electronic tablet in his hands.
Colonel Richard Vance.
He turned toward the glass window as the sound of our deadbolt locking echoed into the vault. His face was cold, unbothered by our sudden intrusion. He reached for an intercom button on the console beside the window.
"Sergeant Mason," Vance's voice echoed clearly through the control room speakers. "I must admit, I'm impressed. I believed your dog would have collapsed miles before reaching the outer fence line. That animal has remarkable resilience. A pity his neural metrics were so unstable."
"It's over, Vance!" I shouted back through the glass, holding up the micro-SD card. "I have the transfer logs, the bio-telemetry reports, and the complete paper trail connecting you to Vanguard's off-book operational funds. Ben is initiating the broadcast to the Inspector General right now."
Vance smiled faintly, a slow, condescending curve of his lips. "You're too late, Sergeant. The mainframe's primary index has already been wiped. The files on your little memory card are fragmented pieces without the base index key sitting in this console. And as for your broadcast..."
Vance tapped his tablet. On the control room console, the satellite connection icon turned from green to a flashing red DISCONNECTED.
"He's jamming the satellite signal from an external tower on the roof!" Ben said, looking at his tablet in dismay. "The upload stalled at 12%!"
"You see, Mason?" Vance said through the speaker. "You're a tactical soldier trying to play a strategic game. You brought a broken dog and a dead memory card to a firefight you lost seven years ago."
Behind us, the heavy steel door began to shower sparks as Vance's security detail outside activated a thermite cutting torch to burn through the deadbolt hinges.
"We have about two minutes before they break through that door," Ben said, drawing his sidearm.
I looked at the glass window separating us from Vance, then down at the server console right beneath the glass. The glass was reinforced bulletproof acrylic—handgun rounds wouldn't penetrate it. But the maintenance access chute—a narrow, two-foot-wide steel duct used to transfer heavy physical drive cartridges between the control room and the vault—was sitting right beside my legs, locked with a simple mechanical latch.
I looked down at Ranger. He was looking at the access chute, then up at me. His body was lean enough to squeeze through the narrow opening.
"Ranger," I said, kneeling down and grabbing his face with both hands, looking deep into his cloudy eyes. "In that room is the man who locked you in the dark. I need you to go inside, hit the manual emergency release button on the main console, and open that vault door."
I pointed toward the small red panel mounted on the wall inside the server vault, right next to Vance's shoulder.
Ranger let out a low, determined bark. He didn't hesitate. He knew the job.
I popped the latch on the maintenance chute. Ranger dropped into his belly, pulling himself through the metal tube with his powerful front legs, pushing past the rust and dust of the narrow space.
Vance was still talking over the intercom, unaware of the movement inside the wall chute. "Hand over the card, Mason, and I'll make sure you get a quiet court-martial instead of a federal treason charge—"
May you like
Suddenly, the steel grate at the bottom of the vault wall burst open.
Ranger erupted from the chute like a shadow from the past, landing on the slick floor of the server vault with a thunderous bark that echoed through the entire sub-level.
