Untangling the Black Web

by T. F. Jacobs

  We sprint toward the exit past the endless medications. As we reach the end of the corridor I scan the area. If Alex is right, and there are people on their way up, we may already be too late. I need a distraction.

  My eyes flash from wall to wall. There’s nowhere to hide. Then I glance back to the left at something that caught my eye.

  The fire alarm.

  Would it work?

  It’s night, so most people have either left or are on their way out. Even with only a few people left, pulling it would surely cause a little chaos getting out of the building.

  “Wait,” I say to Aly. I leap toward the wall and then reach for the handle to pull the lever.

  A second later, a terrible screeching tears at my eardrums. Lights flash from the ceiling. The alarm bursts into action.

  I open the door, and outside the sirens are even louder. My head vibrates in circles as one alarm sounds and then another.

  “Fire. Fire. Fire,” calls an automated voice from above us.

  A woman runs down the hall toward the stairs to our right. Then a man bursts out of the door next to us. The alarms continue to blaze.

  “Fire. Fire. Fire.”

  The lights are dimmed, but the flashing strobes from the alarms above us keep my pupils dilating and expanding.

  I look both ways, and then Aly does the same. There’s a set of stairs on both ends.

  “Hurry,” she yells.

  She runs down the hall toward the back stairs on the left, and I follow behind her.

  My eyes dart across the flashing ceiling for cameras.

  I don’t see any, but my vision is blurred from all the commotion.

  “Fire. Fire. Fire.”

  The screeching siren pops my left eardrum.

  There are two elevator doors on either side of us, but the buttons are unlit and they don’t appear to be in service with the fire alarm having been pulled. I keep on running toward the stairway.

  Something clamors loudly from behind us. A door?

  I turn to see uniformed men coming from the other set of stairs, no more than a hundred feet away.

  I don’t know who they are, but I’m almost certain they’re here for us.

  Without time to think, I dash after Aly and into the stairwell.

  “What do we do?” she asks in a panic.

  I slam the door shut, then tug hard at her sleeve as I take off down the stairs. “Run!”

  It takes her only a second before she darts after me.

  We plummet down one flight after another at an impossible pace.

  My heart thrums through my chest. Aly is right behind me, her breathing so loud it sounds like she’s about to hyperventilate.

  The sirens are muted in the stairwell but still audible as we zoom down floor after floor. One downward rectangle and then another.

  Seventh floor.

  Sixth.

  My thighs are on fire, and I can feel the muscle fibers locking up.

  Fifth.

  My body is nearing its physical limits, but I know we have to keep going. The uniformed men have to be behind us, but the question is how far? Surely someone will intercept us soon.

  Fourth.

  Everything is blurring, and I can’t go much longer.

  Third.

  “Wait!” Aly whispers.

  I turn to look back, but I’m too dizzy. I stumble, trying to come to a stop, and Aly crashes into me, my shoulder colliding with the hard concrete wall. I feel instant pain along my side.

  Then I hear something that makes me freeze in place.

  It takes a second to regain my balance, and when I do, I look up, but the noise is gone.

  This isn’t good. What the hell was it?

  I listen harder.

  And then I hear it again, but this time I know it’s not coming from above us; it’s coming from below. Footsteps, no more than a floor down.

  Panic shoots through my chest, and instantly my brain leaps into overdrive.

  I push open the door to the third floor, the metal from the handle cold against my sweaty palm. My eyes try to adjust as flashing lights fill the space from the hallway.

  “They’re coming!” Aly says.

  I dash through the doorway and down the hall toward the dozens of offices ahead. We have to find somewhere to hide until the fire department or police get here. There’s no other way.

  The sirens are disorienting, but I can feel Aly right on my trail.

  I reach for the second doorknob we come to, but it’s locked.

  “Dammit!”

  I dart to the next, but it’s locked too.

  Aly jumps ahead of me toward the other side of the hall. She reaches for a door but has no luck.

  Twenty more feet and I reach the next one, but it doesn’t budge.

  “Here!” Aly yells.

  She runs through an open door with blackness behind it.

  I dash across the hall and shoot through it.

  “They’re at the end!” someone yells as we close the door. The voice isn’t more than fifty feet off.

  “They saw us,” Aly says.

  I turn on the light then lock the door. Take in my surroundings, trying to find something to block the entrance.

  A dozen wood chairs line the walls, and a receptionist’s desk sits just ahead. We’re not in a room but in another corridor.

  “Grab the chairs,” I say.

  I reach for the nearest one and then prop it against the door. Aly rushes to bring another one over.

  I grab one more just in case, but know this won’t last.

  “They went in this one,” a booming voice calls from behind the door.

  The next second something pounds hard against it. They’re trying to break the door down.

  My chest heaves, and my eyes move at what feels like a thousand miles a second.

  Aly takes off through the hallway past the reception desk.

  The fire alarms along the ceiling buzz as we pass them.

  I follow her past a set of scales and a measuring tape against the wall, then past patients’ rooms.

  We pass the first couple of rooms, and they’re empty aside from hospital beds.

  Pictures of skeletons line the walls.

  “Fire. Fire. Fire,” the automated female voice says above all the chaotic ringing.

  We run past a few more rooms, then turn left down another hallway.

  We continue forward, but there’s a dead end ahead.

  I skip past the first room at my left. It has a window, unlike the others.

  The second one too.

  I stop in my tracks. Aly sees me and slides to a halt.

  “What are you doing? They’ll find us!”

  Without answering, I step to the window and look down at the parking lot below.

  We’re high, probably close to thirty feet up, and the windows look solid.

  Shit.

  I scan the parking lot for any signs of police, the fire department, or an ambulance crew, but there’s nothing.

  Then I notice something. A few feet to my right and directly below us is a delivery truck.

  I run past Aly and into the room next door.

  “What are you doing?” she demands from behind me.

  “You see any fire extinguishers?”

  My eyes scan the room, but there isn’t one visible.

  “Over there.” She points at the back wall where we took the turn.

  I run to it and pry it loose.

  A vibrating ring chirps so loud I feel my eyes may pop out of their sockets.

  I dart back into the room past Aly.

  “Fire. Fire. Fire.”

  She watches as I rocket toward the window and then slam the butt of the extinguisher hard against the glass. I ricochet backward on impact.

  The window cracks and splinters but doesn’t break.

  I step back, then launch forward again.

  This time the glass shatters, and shards spray out, leaving a massive jagged hole where the window once wa
s.

  Wind rushes inside.

  The alarm continues to sound.

  Then I hear voices.

  Aly shuts the door behind us and locks it.

  “We have to jump.”

  I look down at the truck directly below. It’s at least a ten-foot fall, but it’s better than the alternative. If we stay, we’re dead.

  Aly nods.

  Then, without hesitation, she runs at the window and jumps.

  I step forward and watch as she slams onto the top of the truck. Rolls forward and catches herself.

  She snaps her head back up toward me.

  “In here!” a booming voice shouts from behind the door.

  I take a deep breath, clench my fists, and then start forward. I duck my head slightly and bullet through the window. My stomach rises into my chest, and for a split second, I feel weightless.

  Suddenly I slam hard into the truck and my knees buckle, causing me to fly forward. My head collides with metal, and my hands scrape against a sharp crevice.

  I’m in pain, but there’s no time to think about it. I get to my knees and turn to look back at the window. No one yet.

  “Hurry!” Aly yells.

  I glance forward to see her jump down from the hood of the truck.

  I make my way toward her, then slide off.

  My feet crash into the cement, and my knee joints crack ever so slightly. They’ve gone weak.

  “Let’s go!” she calls.

  She runs through the parking lot toward my Volvo at the corner.

  I get up and start to run. My knees seem to splinter with every step, but I push through. Aly keeps running forward, but she’s turned with her phone outstretched.

  The fire alarm still rings from inside the building.

  Cars speed out of the parking lot.

  I turn around to see what she’s looking at and see three men in uniform at the window, staring down at us. We’re already a few hundred yards out.

  Then I turn back. She rounds the car to the passenger’s side, and I hurry to catch up.

  I find the keys in my pocket, press the button to unlock the car, and then dash to the front door. I climb in as Aly buckles her seatbelt.

  I start the car, and within a millisecond I send the car into reverse.

  I glance back out my rearview mirror to see some men in uniform in the distance.

  Maybe my ears are playing tricks on me now that one has popped and the other is numb to the noise, but I think I hear sirens.

  I shift into drive and speed out of the exit.

  It isn’t even a second later when a massive red firetruck turns the corner in past us. There is a police cruiser right behind it.

  A minute later we’re back on the interstate.

  Chapter 14

  We haven’t spoken a word in over ten minutes. Both of us are too shell shocked from what just happened. I don’t even know where I’m headed. All I know is I need to put as much distance between us and that building as I can.

  My mind replays the scene over and over: Alex slamming the needle into Rob’s neck, then begging us to cooperate. Aly’s foot kicking into his head. The audible crack of his nose. How did they get to him? How long has he been playing for the other side?

  My ears are still ringing, but I hear something that distracts me from the road. I feel it too.

  A vibration.

  I reach into my pocket and pull out the burner phone. There’s an unlisted number displayed on the screen.

  Aly glances over, curious.

  Is it worth the risk?

  Probably not, but I’m desperate for a break. Maybe Rob escaped.

  I look down, then answer it, and turn it on speaker.

  “Hello?”

  There’s a truck in my lane braking for no reason. I get over into the carpool lane.

  “David, it’s Brit.”

  My eyes fix on the stereo.

  She’s alive? Her British accent is difficult to discern, too hurried.

  “I don’t have much time, I’m being deported. I’m being held in some sort of bloody cell. They arrested me and raided my place. They found the flash drives.” She pauses, and I can hear the nerves in her voice.

  “Brit. Slow down. Why would you be deported?”

  There’s yelling in the background.

  “Some bullshit about an expired visa. It’s a ploy. Tons of people stay years after their visas expire and ICE doesn’t track them down. Someone found us.”

  More yelling.

  “Who? Who found you?”

  “I don’t know. Gotta be some bloke in government. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of the people we messed with, if you know what I mean.”

  I do.

  I can hear sniffles on the other end. It’s crackly.

  “Do you have any other copies of the files?” I ask.

  “No. They took everything. Seized it all.”

  Shit.

  “You have to go public. Everything is on the drives. Do it before they find you. My hearing will be in two days, and I won’t be reachable. Obviously. These scum pigs. Tell the others I’m sorry.”

  She’s crying now, sniffling.

  “Brit, wait. I don’t have—”

  I’m cut off by someone telling her that her time is up. “Gotta go. Good luck,” she yells into the phone.

  The line goes dead.

  I turn the steering wheel as we approach a bend. My eyes are on the road, but my mind is trying to take in everything she just said. Is this some sort of play? Would she lie about being deported? What purpose would that serve? She had no demands but going public.

  “Could she be telling the truth?” Aly asks.

  I consider it.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Either way, this isn’t good. We’ve got nothing left. It’s just you and me. They’ve taken every one of our flash drives.”

  “You have the laptop?”

  She looks down, then dives into her bag and nods.

  I speed up, racing down the empty freeway, the only other car in sight a couple hundred yards ahead.

  “That’s something. And I’ve still got the files on my phone.”

  There’s a lingering silence between us.

  “Are we going to die?” Aly asks.

  I take my eyes off the road for a split second to meet her face. There’s genuine fear in her eyes. Sadness.

  I’ve got to lie to her. It’s the only way.

  “Eventually. But not today.”

  She doesn’t reply.

  More silence.

  Something in the back of my mind nags at me. Could Brit be right? Is someone inside the government after us? I keep getting drawn back to the conversation the four of us had about who might be after us. And Alex telling us they would kill him if we didn’t cooperate. Now Brit is being deported.

  “Those men who chased us, did you see any emblems on their uniforms?” I ask.

  She considers it. Takes out her phone, then plays back the video she shot.

  A familiar but distant alarm blares in the background. I glance over momentarily, then draw my attention back to the road.

  The alarms stop.

  “No, I don’t think so. All black.”

  “That’s what I thought. But they looked official. Like black ops or something.”

  “I suppose. They definitely weren’t cops. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I think they might be some sort of undercover clandestine government op trying to eliminate us to keep us quiet.”

  I glance over, and as I expected, she looks scared.

  As I’m saying it aloud, everything is becoming clearer.

  “Actually, that is exactly what it is. I can’t believe I didn’t see this sooner.”

  “See what?”

  “Connelly. The Speaker. It all adds up.”

  “David, what are you talking about? You aren’t making any sense.”

  “Think about it. Connelly threatened me. Told me to watch my back after Brit leaked t
he e-mails sent between him and Congresswoman Thompson. He’s Joe Jones’s right-hand man. The Speaker of the House and the whip. They work hand and hand. You also told me that Lincoln was supposed to meet with Jones before he went missing. They are the two most powerful men in Congress. Who else would have the power to deport someone? Who else would be able to order some sort of black ops to hunt each of us down? They’re trying to silence us just like they did Lincoln. Connelly’s scared of what we have in the files from his laptop.”

  I know I sound crazy, but my theory checks out. The connections were there the whole time, and I was too naive to see them. I didn’t want to believe that Jones could do something like this because I didn’t want to believe a politician could be so corrupt as to kill a man in order to silence him. A US citizen! But now Dominique is dead, and most likely Rob and Alex are too. Because we hacked and blackmailed the second most powerful congressman in the House. And it’s because of my decision to go along with it. My stomach drops with an overwhelming sense of guilt at the thought.

  “So what do we do?” she asks

  The answer comes to me straightaway. It’s as clear as day.

  “We have to go public. Just like you said. But first we need to catch Connelly and Jones in the act of trying to make us all go away.”

  “How on earth do you expect to do that? If you don’t remember, Rob is gone. We don’t have a journalist to even publish the story in the first place.”

  She’s right. A large amount of our plan for winning a case against American True Care revolved around a credible journalist with the Post releasing all of these articles and videos out into the world. It’s not like I can just call CNN for an interview—they’ll think I’m some sort of psychotic loon.

  Wait.

  It hits me head on.

  “Evan. My brother. He’s a journalist with the OC Times. It’s not exactly the Post, but it’s something.”

  I don’t want to bring him into this, but at this point I have no other choice.

  I get out of the carpool lane and turn onto State Route 57.

  “I don’t see many other options. You think he’ll do it?” she asks.

  I blew him off the last time we were supposed to get together, and the time before that I wasn’t exactly on my best behavior. But he’s my brother.

  “He better.”

  . . .

  An hour later we get off the bus and glance across to the hillside of multi-million-dollar homes, each with a better ocean view than the last. The street is empty, most residents asleep in their beds.