Chapter 9 - The Laboratory in Evanston
The house in Evanston was a quiet, two-story Victorian property located on a secluded tree-lined street near the shores of Lake Michigan.
To any passerby, it looked like the home of a retired university professor. The lawn was neatly trimmed, a vintage green station wagon sat in the driveway, and yellow light glowed behind drawn velvet curtains on the first floor.
At 3:30 PM, my matte-black SUV pulled up to the curb two doors down.
I sat in the rear seat, checking the slide on my custom 9mm sidearm before slipping it into my shoulder holster under my tailored wool coat. Beside me, Marco adjusted his leather gloves, while Gabe sat in the front seat monitoring directional audio receivers aimed at the house.
"No guards outside, boss," Gabe reported softly. "Thermal scope shows two people inside the ground floor. One moving near the back kitchen, one sitting stationary in the front parlor."
"Do we knock, or do we break the door?" Marco asked.
"We knock," I said coldly. "A man like Dr. Mercer thinks he’s a scientist, not a soldier. He’s not expecting a storm."
I stepped out of the vehicle into the chilly autumn air, my heavy leather boots making crisp sounds against the fallen leaves on the pavement. Marco walked two paces behind me, his right hand buried inside his heavy coat.
We walked up the creaking wooden steps of the porch. I pressed the brass doorbell.
A soft chime echoed inside the house.
Ten seconds passed. Then twenty.
Slowly, the heavy oak front door pulled open a few inches, held back by a brass security chain.
A tall, thin man in his late fifties looked out through the gap. He had wire-rimmed glasses, receding gray hair, and wore a dark blue cardigan over a button-down shirt. He looked entirely harmless—except for his eyes, which were sharp, cold, and utterly devoid of warmth.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked in a precise, cultured voice.
I reached out, placed my gloved hand against the edge of the door, and pushed inward with effortless, terrifying force.
SNAP.
The brass security chain sheared clean out of the wooden frame with a loud crack.
Before Dr. Mercer could scream, Marco stepped inside, grabbed the scientist by his throat, and shoved him backward into the grand entryway, shutting the heavy oak door behind us.
Dr. Mercer stumbled back against a high antique hall tree, gasping for air, his wire-rimmed glasses crooked on his nose.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Mercer wheezed, clutching his neck. "This is private property! I will call the police!"
I walked into the foyer, my dark coat flaring slightly, revealing the leather shoulder holster beneath. I looked around the pristine, quiet entryway—the smell of old books, pipe tobacco, and formal furniture filling the air.
"Dr. Julian Mercer," I said smoothly, stepping up to him. "Former senior researcher for Apex Tech Defense Systems."
Mercer’s eyes widened behind his glasses, his breath catching in his chest. "Who... who are you?"
"My name is Adrien Moretti," I said softly.
The reaction was instantaneous. Mercer’s pale skin went completely ash-gray. He backed away until his shoulders pressed hard against the wallpapered hallway.
"Mr. Moretti..." he stuttered, his cultured voice completely dissolving into panic. "I... I had no idea... Victoria Vane told me the device was for a commercial security test! She told me it was being used in a private warehouse!"
"You calibrated an eighteen-to-twenty-two kilohertz frequency sweep, Doctor," I said, my voice dropping into a deadly, monotone whisper. "You specifically designed the wave pattern to penetrate thin infant skull plates while remaining virtually silent to adult ears. Don't lie to me."
I reached out, grabbed him by his cardigan lapels, and dragged him down the long hallway toward the back of the house, where a heavy reinforced door sat under the staircase.
"Where does this door go, Doctor?" I growled.
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"It’s... it's just my private workshop!" Mercer whimpered, clutching at my hands. "Please! Everything I have is in there! Take the research! Take the money! Victoria paid me two hundred thousand dollars—I’ll give it all to you!"
Marco kicked the workshop door open.
