"I'm planning to end a problem that's been threatening my family for nearly a century," Sarah replied coolly. "Eleanor Blackwood created a fiction, a elaborate hoax designed to cover her own crimes. That fiction has now attracted the attentionof federal investigators and misguided amateur detectives who think they can rewrite history."
"So you're going to rewrite it with explosives?"
"I'm going to erase it completely. When this building comes down, there will be no evidence left to examine, no witnesses left to testify, no loose ends for future investigators to pursue." Sarah gestured toward the electronic equipment. "Sometimes, Detective, the most elegant solution is also the most final one."
Jack studied the setup more carefully, noting the positioning of the detonation controls and the way Sarah's men were maintaining distance from certain areas of the building. "How long do we have?"
"That depends on you, Detective. My associates downstairs are currently retrieving the documents that Ms. Whitaker found in the safe deposit box. Once they've confirmed that we have all of Eleanor's so-called evidence, we'll evacuate our people and trigger the charges."
"And the hostages?"
"Will unfortunately be caught in what appears to be a tragic gas explosion. These old buildings, you know—so many potential hazards with the aging infrastructure."
Jack felt sick as he realized the scope of Sarah's plan. She was going to make the explosion look like an accident, eliminating all evidence of the Mitchell family's crimes while simultaneously getting rid of everyone who could testify about what they'd discovered.
"There's one problem with your plan," Jack said. "Agent Chen's backup teams know exactly what you're doing. They've detected your jamming equipment and identified the explosive devices. Even if you succeed in destroying this building, the federal investigation will continue."
"Will it?" Sarah's smile was genuinely amused. "Detective, do you really think we haven't planned for that contingency? Do you think this operation exists in isolation?"
Before Jack could ask what she meant, his attention was drawn to movement near the bank's rear entrance. Through the glass doors, he could see figures in tactical gear moving through what appeared to be a service corridor.
Annie. The thought hit him like a physical blow. Despite his instructions to escape through the maintenance tunnel, despite the obvious danger, she was coming back for him.
"Ah," Sarah said, following his gaze. "It appears Ms. Whitaker is more resourceful than we anticipated. How romantic—she's come back to die with you."
Jack felt a surge of fear and anger unlike anything he'd ever experienced. "Sarah, if you hurt her—"
"You'll what, Detective? You're unarmed, outnumbered, and surrounded by enough explosives to level this entire city block. What exactly do you think you can do to me?"
But even as she spoke, Jack was calculating distances, positions, possibilities. The detonation controls were about twenty feet away, guarded by two mercenaries. The hostages were positioned between him and the rear entrance where Annie would be entering. And Sarah Mitchell was standing close enough that he might be able to reach her before her men could stop him.
It wasn't much of a plan, but it was all he had.
"You're right," Jack said, taking a small step closer to Sarah. "I can't stop you. But I can make sure you don't get to enjoy your victory."
"What are you—"
Jack lunged forward, tackling Sarah Mitchell to the floor just as the rear entrance exploded inward in a shower of glass and smoke. Federal agents poured through the opening,their weapons ready, their voices shouting commands that were barely audible over the chaos.
But as Jack struggled with Sarah on the marble floor, he caught sight of the detonation controls on the nearby desk. One of the screens was flashing red, and numbers were counting down rapidly.
00:47... 00:46... 00:45...
Sarah had triggered the explosives. The building was going to come down in less than a minute, and there was no way to evacuate all the hostages in time.
Unless Someone could reach the detonation controls and stop the countdown.
Jack looked across the chaotic lobby and saw Annie fighting her way through the firefight toward the electronic equipment. She'd seen the countdown too, and she was trying to reach the controls before time ran out.
Please God, Jack prayed as gunfire erupted around them and the countdown continued its relentless march toward zero. Let her be fast enough. Let her be brave enough. Let her save all of us.
But as he watched Annie dodge between armed mercenaries and desperate hostages, Jack realized that their survival depended on more than just courage and speed.
It depended on Eleanor Blackwood's legacy of never giving up, even in the face of certain death.
Chapter 18
Annie dove behind an overturned desk as gunfire chewed into the marble wall above her, stone dust stinging her face while her heart battered against her ribs. The world narrowed to noise and motion and the furious red pulse of the countdown display across the lobby, its numbers burning into her vision as if they had branded themselves there. Thirty-eight seconds. That was all the time she had to reach the detonation controls and stop explosives designed to tear the building—and everyone inside it—apart.
