Chapter 8 - The Shattered Mirror
By nine-forty-five, five minutes remained on the automated containment countdown.
The four hundred guests inside the ballroom had dropped to the floor, sitting along the marble walls with their hands clasped behind their heads, terrified of the impending military arrival.
Sheriff Raymond Pike sat against a white-and-gold floral display, his tan sheriff jacket discarded on the floor beside him, his face buried in his hands.
Sheriff Pike: "My career... my pension... everything is gone."
Marcus walked over to the ruined banquet table where Preston had fallen earlier. He picked up a unopened bottle of sparkling water from the ice bucket, twisted off the cap, and handed it to Claire.
Marcus: "Drink this, Claire. Stay hydrated."
Claire took the bottle, taking a small sip before looking at the heavy titanium blast doors sealed at the front of the room.
Claire: "Dad... what happens to the people in this room who didn't know anything?"
Marcus looked over the crowd of Greenwich socialites shivering on the marble floor.
Marcus: "They’ll be processed, interviewed by federal agents, and released by morning. None of them are in danger."
Suddenly, a loud, metallic THUD reverberated from the far side of the ballroom—near the service kitchen doors.
A hidden access hatch in the floorboards near the wine rack slowly lifted upward, revealing a dark concrete staircase leading down into the subterranean darkness below.
A figure stepped up out of the gloom.
It was a forty-year-old man wearing a black tactical suit, an earpiece plugged into his right ear, carrying a heavy suppressed assault rifle held in a low-ready position.
May you like
He looked around the red-lit ballroom before his eyes locked onto Marcus Reed.
Tactical Operator: "Commander Reed... Sub-level Two is secured. We’ve neutralized the transmission server."
