Chapter 10 - A Broadcast Across the State
The television screen flickered with harsh fluorescent glare, displaying a high-resolution photograph of my face taken from a corporate ID badge. Below the image, the headline scrolled in bold, accusing red letters: FORMER AUDITOR WANTED IN MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR EMBEZZLEMENT AND ESPIONAGE. The anchor's voice was crisp, rehearsed, and utterly devastating, describing me as a volatile fugitive who had fled a private medical facility under suspicious circumstances, possibly armed and dangerous.
I stared at the screen, the bitter absurdity of it tightening my chest. They hadn't just tried to eliminate me in the hospital; they had rewritten the entire narrative, turning my forensic audit into a grand theft scheme orchestrated by a rogue employee.
"They're burying the trail before the federal SEC filing hits next week," I said, my voice dropping to an iron whisper as I gripped the edge of the wooden table. "If the public believes I stole the funds, whatever documents I managed to pull from the corporate server become inadmissible as the frantic actions of a thief."
She stood beside the small television, her eyes fixed on the moving graphic. She didn't flinch, nor did she look toward the door as if calculating her escape route. Instead, she reached out and switched the television off, plunging the corner of the room back into silence save for the hum of the refrigerator.
"They're using the state police to do their dirty work," she said, turning to face me. Her expression was completely unreadable beneath the harsh morning light. "Every county highway patrolman between here and the capital is looking for a thirty-something male with dark hair, stubble, and a bandaged right arm. Walking out of here isn't an option anymore. Staying here indefinitely is a slow death."
"I have an encrypted flash drive," I said, reaching into the pocket of my discarded jacket hanging over the chair. I pulled out a small, heavy piece of metal wrapped in plastic tape. "A secure drop point three counties over. An old colleague from the compliance division left it in a dead-drop before his communications went dark. If we can interface this with an unmonitored terminal, we can route the original transaction ledgers directly to the federal investigators bypassing the corporate firewall."
"And how do we get three counties over when every toll booth and intersection is flagged with your description?" she asked, stepping closer. She reached out, her fingers gently touching the bandage on my arm to check for any sign of fresh bleeding from yesterday's suture removal. Her touch was steady, grounded, entirely untouched by the panic radiating from the news broadcast.
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"We don't take the highways," I replied, looking directly into her eyes. "We move through the old logging roads at dusk. But it means breaking our own rules. We're going to need help."
"No more strangers," she said firmly, her jaw set. "If we bring anyone else into this, we invite the exact exposure that got you put on an IV drip in that hospital room. It's just us."
