Chapter 19 - The Truth Behind Clara’s "Accident": A Murder Reopened
"Step away from the incubator, Marcus," Julian said, his voice amplified through the intercom speakers. "The glass is wired with three ounces of military-grade C4. Pull that trigger, and your precious little Sophia becomes mist before you can chamber another round."
Marcus kept his gun leveled, his muscles coiled like steel springs. "You sick bastard. Clara was your best friend. Emma was your goddaughter."
Julian let out a bitter, theatrical sigh. "Clara was brilliant. But she was hopelessly, childishly sentimental. She inherited an empire capable of rewriting human biology, and what did she want to do? Donate it to public children's hospitals! She wanted to give genetic salvation away for free!"
Julian walked slowly down the catwalk stairs, his polished oxfords clicking against the steel mesh.
"Do you have any idea what foreign leaders will pay for immunity to cancer? For genetic resistance to cellular degradation? The Vance family genome holds the key to the next evolutionary leap. Clara refused to monetize it. She threatened to go to the Department of Justice. She was going to shut down my research, destroy my life's work!"
"So you staged her drowning," Marcus growled, his knuckles white.
"It was so simple," Julian smiled, adjusting his silk tie. "A micro-puncture to her carotid artery while she sat at a red light in Brooklyn. A paralytic agent that mimics sudden cardiac arrest. By the time her car rolled into the river, she couldn't move a single muscle, but her mind was completely awake. She knew exactly what was happening."
Elena raised her weapon toward Julian, her face twisted in rage. "You used me, Julian! You swore my sister would get the treatment!"
Julian didn't even look at her. "Your sister died forty-eight hours ago, Elena. Her body rejected the stem cell harvest. You were always a very poor judge of clinical survival rates."
Elena let out a guttural, feral scream of grief and leveled her gun at Julian’s head.
"ELENA, NO!" Marcus roared.
Julian clicked the button on his remote.
A concussive shockwave ripped through the observation catwalk. The ceiling panels buckled, raining tons of concrete and structural steel down upon the floor. Elena was thrown violently backward against the wall, her weapon skittering across the floor into a drainage grate.
Julian turned to sprint down the rear escape corridor, shouting into a radio: "Initiate purge sequence! Burn the lower levels!"
Marcus didn't pursue him. His only thought was the child.
He dove across the shattered floor, shielding the glass incubator with his own body as heavy chunks of ceiling plaster slammed into his back. The glass of the isolette cracked, spiderwebbing under the impact, but held.
Inside, the baby woke up, screaming in terror.
Marcus punched through the cracked acrylic lid, reached inside, and lifted his infant daughter into his arms, wrapping his thick winter coat around her small, fragile body.
"I've got you," Marcus whispered, his voice choking with tears as the baby's tiny hands grabbed his collar. "Daddy’s got you, Sophia."
Elena stumbled to her feet, blood running from her forehead, clutching a fractured shoulder. "Marcus... the fire suppression system... it’s not water. It’s halon gas! He's going to suffocate the entire subterranean complex!"
Sirens began to wail throughout the bunker—a high-pitched, rhythmic klaxon accompanied by flashing red strobe lights.
*WARNING: ATMOSPHERIC PURGE IN TWO MINUTES. EVACUATE SECTOR IMMEDIATELY.*
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Marcus secured Sophia against his chest with a tactical sling, picked up his weapon, and grabbed Elena by the arm. "Move! Back to the submarine bay!"
***
