Chapter 134 - The Assault on the Crib
The water intake crib—a Victorian-era fortress of brick and stone resting two miles offshore in the freezing waters of Lake Michigan—loomed like a ghost ship in the dark. For generations, it had quietly drawn fresh water from the depths of the lake into the city's vast underground aqueducts. Tonight, it was the focal point of an extermination campaign.
From the hulls of Julian Sterling’s corvettes, three high-speed rigid-hulled inflatable boats (RHIBs) cut through the smoking chop, loaded with heavily armed private contractors clad in black arctic gear. Their destination was the crib’s maintenance platform.
"If they breach the primary valve chambers," Vincent said, pulling a combat harness over his shoulder, "they can pump industrial-grade neurotoxins straight into the central reservoir. The Loop will be uninhabitable by sunrise."
"We can't get across the lake by water," Marco said, checking his assault rifle’s chamber. "The surface is choked with broken ice and Julian’s corvettes have thirty-millimeter autocannons targeting the river channel."
"We don't go across the water," Vincent replied, turning toward Emma. "We go through the deep-drainage siphon."
Emma frowned. "The aqueduct? It's completely submerged."
"Only during heavy summer runoff," Vincent explained, opening a maintenance hatch located near the sub’s docking collar. "In midwinter, the secondary relief flume is drained for sediment cleaning. It runs from the foundation beneath Moretti Tower directly into the foundation ring of Crib Number Four. It's a three-mile run through darkness, ice, and sewer gases."
"Then let's move," Emma said without hesitation, checking the sidearm Vincent had handed her hours ago. The tremble that had once lived in her hands when she carried trays of champagne at the Sterling gala was completely gone. In its place was a sharp, diamond-hard resolve.
May you like
Vincent looked at her for a long second, his storm-grey eyes carrying a flicker of deep respect that no corporate board or family lineage could ever command. "Stay behind me. The contractors Julian employs aren't mercenaries looking for a paycheck. They are ideological zealots from the old Sterling overseas security division."
"I stopped Victoria Sterling with a bare hand when she tried to strike an old woman," Emma said quietly, stepping onto the iron ladder leading down into the siphon. "I'm not running from her brother."
