Chapter 3 - The Shadow of Sterling
Three miles away, inside the glass-walled penthouse of the Sterling Tower overlooking the neon sprawl of the city, Arthur Sterling stared down at his tablet screen. The live-streamed footage of the arena confrontation was looping on a forty-inch monitor, playing over and over again in soundless, hypnotic horror.
His phone buzzed on the mahogany desk.
Arthur picked it up, his thick fingers gripping the titanium casing so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Explain to me," Arthur said, his voice dropping into an icy, dangerous register, "how an eight-year-old kid and a retired vet managed to crack a secure archival server that cost my corporation two hundred thousand dollars to encrypt."
On the other end of the line, Thomas’s voice came through frantic, breathless, and soaked in static from a burner phone in a roadside diner. "Mr. Sterling, you don't understand. The kid had the bandana. Caleb kept it in his locker under the floorboards—the one security never cleared out! He gave it to the bull, and the animal... boss, I swear to you, the animal recognized it. It’s like the beast remembered every single thing Caleb did for him before we started the protocol."
"Spare me the sentimental fairy tales, Thomas," Sterling snarled. "Animals don't have memories like that. They have chemistry. And our chemistry was supposed to keep that bull locked away in a meat-packing plant by midnight tonight."
"Inspector Vance has impounded the animal," Thomas whispered frantically. "He’s got state troopers guarding the quarantine stables. If they pull blood work, if they find the residual traces of the neural inhibitors in Ranger's tissue samples..."
"They won't," Sterling interrupted coldly.
"Sir?"
"Because by sunrise, the quarantine facility is going to experience a catastrophic electrical failure," Sterling said, his eyes reflecting the cold blue light of his computer monitor. "A localized fire in the feed storage. Tragic accident. Faulty wiring in an old building. The evidence—and the bull—will be reduced to ash before the federal judges even sign the search warrant."
"And... and the boy?" Thomas stammered. "And the mother?"
May you like
Arthur Sterling paused for a long, agonizing beat. When he spoke, every trace of humanity had vanished from his tone.
"Collateral damage, Thomas. Just clean up the mess before I have to send someone to clean you up, too."
