“The… the basement garage,” Thorne wept, pointing a trembling finger toward the emergency elevators.
“Bay 4.
They’re waiting for my signal… for me to sign the death certificate so they can move the transport incubator without raising red flags on the hospital tracking system!”
I shoved Thorne down onto the floor.
He crumpled into a heap, gasping for air and coughing violently.
I picked up my satellite phone and hit speed dial 1.
“Commander Vance,” the voice of Viktor Kozlov, my global chief of security, echoed instantly.
“Lock down the entire subterranean garage of St.
Jude’s Memorial,” I ordered.
“Bay 4.
There is an unauthorized medical transport unit attempting to move a newborn.
Neutralize all hostility immediately.
Secure the incubator.
If a single hair on my daughter’s head is harmed, I want every person involved in that bay erased from existence.”
“Understood, Director.
Teams moving now.”
I didn’t wait.
I ran toward the stairwell, taking the concrete steps four at a time, plunging deep into the bowels of the hospital.
