Chapter 14: The Pivot
The terminal screen went black as the remote feed terminated, leaving only the dull reflection of my own face staring back at me from the dark glass. I turned away from the desk, my hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. The raw, desperate fury that had driven me through the rainy western streets was back, burning hotter than before.
"We need a chopper," I said, looking directly at Tom. "There’s no other way up that ridge before nightfall."
Tom shook his head slowly, his expression grim. "The nearest state police aviation unit is two hours away in Grand Junction, and Elena’s people likely have the local radio frequencies jammed anyway. We can't call for official air support without alerting their entire network."
"Then we use my old contacts," I replied, my voice dropping an octave. "The bush pilot who used to run supplies out of the old copper mine north of here. Jimmy Vance. He owes me a life."
Tom stared at me for a long beat, weighing the dangerous implications of bringing active syndicate-adjacent smugglers back into the fold. Then, he looked down at the ruined bridge on the monitor and made his choice. "Let's move. If Jimmy Vance is still operating out of that strip, we have thirty minutes to reach him before the storm rolls back in."
We left the corporate operatives cuffed to the heavy steel server racks, their encrypted drives sitting safely in Tom's tactical pouch as a secondary insurance policy. Toby the dispatcher unlocked the back bay door for us, his face pale with dread as he watched us load back into the black SUV.
As Tom spun the tires on the gravel, spraying mud against the side of the municipal building, I pulled my phone out and dialed a burned number I hadn't used in five years. It rang three times before a gruff, gravelly voice answered on the other end.
"Yeah?"
"Jimmy, it's Daniel," I said over the roar of the engine. "I need a bird in the air, and I need it now."
May you like
There was a short pause, the sound of static hissing through the receiver, and then Jimmy’s cynical laugh. "I heard you went straight, Daniel. Guess trouble finally caught up."
"It's my boy," I said simply. "Meet me at the north ridge in twenty minutes."
