Chapter 8 - The Executive Sanctuary
By midnight, the executive suite on the top floor of Hayes Holdings had been transformed into a temporary command post. The leather sofas had been pushed aside to make room for tactical monitors, and four armed guards stood at the heavy oak doors, their expressions grim.
Mia sat on the plush Persian rug in front of the hearth, entirely unbothered by the sudden relocation. She had her silver-starred backpack open, her various coloring books scattered across the wool fibers, her light-up shoes flashing blue-blue-blue every time she shifted her weight to reach for a different crayon.
Clara stood by the desk, her face pale but her eyes sharp as she monitored the live security feeds from the Williamsburg site. "The perimeter sensors at the construction site just went offline," she reported, her fingers flying across her laptop. "It’s a localized EMP jammer. Someone is cutting the grid from the street level."
Alec stood behind her, his hand resting on the back of her chair, his physical presence a solid, unyielding wall of support. "They're trying to force us to deploy our security team away from the tower," he noted, his amber eyes analyzing the tactical map. "It’s a classic diversion. The Maronis don't want the building; they want me. If they take out the young boss, the entire network crumbles back into their hands."
"Then we don't send the team," Clara said, looking up at him, her hazel eyes filled with a desperate trust. "We keep the defense tight here. The tower has its own independent power grid and three weeks of reserves."
"We can't just sit here and let them destroy the site, Clara," Alec said softly, his thumb brushing against her shoulder. "If Williamsburg falls, the union loses faith, and Marcus Cole's men will walk away. We have to defend both."
"I can route the automated security drones from the North River pier," Clara suggested, her eyes widening as an idea took shape. "We don't need to send men. We can use the heavy cargo cranes at Pier 42 to block the main access roads to the Williamsburg site. If I override the port authority’s automation loop, I can drop three forty-ton containers across the bridge before the Maroni trucks can cross."
Alec stared at her, a look of profound admiration breaking through his stern demeanor. "You’re going to use my shipping containers as a barricade?"
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"They're our shipping containers, Alec," Clara said, her fingers already executing the command sequence. "And I think it’s time we showed them what a 'store clerk' can do with a spreadsheet."
From the floor, Mia looked up from her coloring book, her blue shoes flashing once. "Mom’s going to squish their trucks," she said cheerfully, before going back to coloring a purple horse.
