Chapter 3 - The House of Glass
The drive to the "second location" took us deep into the Appalachian foothills.
The rain had turned into a torrential downpour, blurring the world into shades of grey and black.
Agent Miller drove with a frantic, focused energy.
"The Foundry isn't just a rogue group," she explained over the roar of the engine.
"They are the architects of the shadow government."
"Your father discovered they were planning to trigger a false-flag event to seize total control."
"He stole the encryption keys they needed to authorize the launch."
I looked out the window, watching the dark trees fly by.
"And he hid them in an empty casket?" I asked.
Miller shook her head.
"No."
"The empty casket was a lure."
"He knew they would dig it up the moment the cemetery was empty."
"Inside that casket is a localized EMP device."
"The moment they opened it, their entire local surveillance network fried."
I laughed, a cold, humorless sound.
"That sounds like him."
"Always thinking three steps ahead of the enemy."
We pulled up to an old hunting cabin tucked away in a ravine.
It looked abandoned, but as we approached, the front door clicked open automatically.
Inside, the walls were lined with maps and tactical gear.
In the center of the room stood a man I thought I had buried that morning.
Richard Sinclair.
He looked older, tired, and his hair was thinner than I remembered.
But his eyes were sharp, filled with the same fire that had guided me my whole life.
"Beatrice," he said, his voice cracking.
I didn't hug him.
I didn't cry.
I walked up to him and slapped him across the face.
The sound echoed through the cabin.
He took it without flinching, a small trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"I mourned you," I hissed.
"I carried your casket."
"I stood by your grave and felt my heart break."
"I know," he whispered.
"And for that, I will never forgive myself."
"But if you hadn't truly mourned, they would have known it was a fake."
"They were watching your vitals, Bea."
"They had sensors on your watch, tracking your heart rate and your stress levels."
"You had to believe I was dead to keep us all alive."
I stepped back, my chest heaving.
"Where is Mom?"
"She's safe, in a cabin three miles from here, protected by men I trust."
He walked over to a table and spread out a blueprint.
It wasn't a building.
It was a network of underground cables.
"The Foundry is operating out of a 'charity' office in D.C.," he said.
"Tonight, they are going to upload the final phase of their protocol."
"Once that happens, they can overwrite any digital record in the world."
"They can erase people."
"They can create wars."
"They can make the truth whatever they want it to be."
I looked at the map, my tactical mind already spotting the weaknesses.
"You want me to help you break in," I said.
"No," he replied, looking me in the eye.
"I want you to lead the assault."
"I'm an old man who plays with computers."
"You're a Colonel of the United States Army."
"You are the only person with the tactical expertise to get past their security."
I looked at the brass key, then at the man who had lied to me to save the world.
"If we do this, there's no going back," I said.
"We'll be outlaws."
"We already are," my father said softly.
"The moment you didn't go home, you became a ghost."
He handed me a tactical vest and a customized carbine.
"Welcome to the family business, Beatrice."
The beeping from the storage unit had been a countdown to this moment.
May you like
The funeral was over.
The war had begun.
