TURNING THE TABLES

The trapdoor slammed shut above them, cutting off the roar of splintering wood. Dust rained down as boots pounded into the room they’d just left. Adrian dropped the latch bar into place, plunging the tunnel below into darkness.

“Stay low,” he whispered, flicking on a tiny red penlight. Its beam barely illuminated the cramped brick corridor stretching ahead. Pipes rattled overhead.

Elena crouched behind him, heart pounding. “Where does this go?”

“Old bootleg tunnels under the industrial quarter,” he said. “They’ve been sealed for decades, but my contact uses them. If we’re lucky, we can reach his workshop before they figure out the map.”

“Workshop?” she whispered. “What kind of contact do you have?”

“The kind who doesn’t ask questions,” Adrian muttered.

They moved quickly, stooped low to avoid dangling pipes. The air grew colder and smelled faintly of oil. Above, muted thumps echoed — the men searching, dragging furniture, barking orders.

Elena clutched the hoodie tighter around herself. She wasn’t just running anymore. Something had shifted in her when she walked into this tunnel. Adrian had trusted her with evidence. He’d admitted his cover. Now she wasn’t simply collateral; she was part of the mission.

“Why me?” she asked softly as they jogged. “Why trust me?”

Adrian glanced over his shoulder. In the red light his face looked carved from shadow. “Because you’re already in this. And because you’re braver than you think.”

She snorted softly. “I’m terrified.”

“That’s not the same as being a coward,” he said.

They reached a fork. Adrian knelt, sweeping his light across faded chalk marks on the wall. “Left,” he murmured. “Stay close.”

They turned left. The tunnel sloped downward, water dripping from the ceiling. Somewhere ahead came the faint hum of machinery.

Elena’s phone vibrated. She pulled it out: an unknown number again.

Last chance. Give us the drive. We’ll let him go.

Her stomach twisted. She showed Adrian.

“They have someone else?” she whispered.

“They’re bluffing,” he said, but his voice was tight.

She shoved the phone back into her pocket. “What’s the plan when we reach your contact?”

He gave a humorless smile. “If he’s still alive, he’ll help us broadcast the drive to multiple outlets at once. Once it’s public, they can’t bury it.”

“And if he’s not alive?”

“Then we improvise.”

The tunnel opened into a cavernous brick chamber lined with rusted barrels. A generator hummed in the corner. Adrian swept the penlight across the room.

A workbench stood near the far wall, cluttered with laptops, cables, and radio gear. A man in a grease-stained jacket sat slumped over it, a headset askew.

“Calloway,” Adrian hissed, rushing forward.

The man stirred, groaning. “Adrian…?”

Adrian helped him sit up. “Are you hit?”

“No.” Calloway coughed, eyes fluttering. “They… came through the west tunnel… trashed everything…” His gaze flicked to Elena. “Who’s she?”

“Asset,” Adrian said quickly. “Do you still have a connection?”

Calloway wheezed. “They cut my uplink. Fried the router. But… there’s a backup antenna on the roof. You’ll have to reach it manually.”

Adrian cursed under his breath. “Of course.” He turned to Elena. “We need to upload the drive now. Once it’s out, their leverage dies.”

Elena nodded, though her hands trembled. “Tell me what to do.”

He looked at her for a long beat, then handed her a small flash drive identical to the one she’d been carrying. “This is a decoy. We’ll make them think you’re escaping with the evidence while I climb to the roof and send the real one. If they’re tracking you, they’ll follow the decoy.”

Her stomach lurched. “You’re using me as bait?”

He held her gaze. “You’re the only one they don’t expect to fight back.”

She stared at him. “And what if they catch me?”

“You won’t let them.” His tone softened. “You’re smarter than they are. And I’ll be right behind you.”

Something in his eyes — fierce, protective — made her chest tighten. She swallowed hard. “Okay. Tell me how.”

He sketched a quick map on the dusty floor with a piece of chalk: the decoy route out through a side tunnel to the street, then to a subway entrance where Maya could meet her. Meanwhile he’d climb to the roof with Calloway’s backup antenna.

“Once you’re in the subway, blend with the crowd,” he said. “If you can’t reach Maya, go to the press yourself.”

She clutched the decoy drive. “And you?”

“I’ll upload, then find you.” He hesitated, then brushed his thumb over her knuckles — a fleeting, grounding touch. “We’re almost done, Elena. After tonight, you’re free.”

Her breath caught. “And you?”

He smiled faintly. “Freedom’s relative.”

She wanted to say something — to demand a promise, to tell him not to do anything reckless — but footsteps echoed in a distant tunnel. Time was up.

Adrian turned to Calloway. “Seal the west entrance. Slow them down.”

Calloway nodded weakly, reaching for a control panel.

Adrian gripped Elena’s shoulders. “Remember: head up, move fast, don’t look back.”

Her throat tightened. “You’d better follow me.”

He gave a small, sad smile. “Go.”

She slipped into the side tunnel, clutching the decoy. The passage was narrower, lined with damp bricks. Her heart pounded. She could hear the men shouting somewhere behind her, their boots striking the concrete like drums.

She reached a rusted ladder leading up to a grate. She climbed quickly, pushing the grate aside and emerging into a deserted street lit by a flickering lamp. Rain misted the air.

She pulled up her hood and started toward the subway entrance two blocks away. Her shoes splashed through puddles. She kept her head down, praying no one recognized her.

Halfway to the subway, a black SUV screeched around the corner. Doors flew open. Men in dark jackets spilled out.

“There!” one shouted.

Elena bolted.

Her feet pounded the pavement. She darted between parked cars, cut through an alley, vaulted over a trash can. Shouts followed. Boots thundered behind her.

She reached the subway stairs and plunged down two at a time. The station was crowded with late-night commuters. She shoved through them, heart hammering, scanning for an escape.

“Stop her!” a voice bellowed from above.

Commuters turned, confused. Elena ducked into a service corridor marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” She sprinted down it, the decoy drive clenched in her fist.

The corridor ended at a maintenance room. She slammed the door behind her, leaning against it. Footsteps pounded outside.

Her phone buzzed.

A.W.: Upload complete. You’re clear.

Relief surged through her. She typed back: Where are you?

No reply.

The door rattled. Voices cursed.

She glanced around. A single window, too small to crawl through. A vent high on the wall. A mop bucket.

The door cracked open. A man forced his way in, eyes narrowing when he saw her.

“Hand it over,” he growled.

She tightened her grip on the decoy drive. “This?” she asked, her voice surprisingly steady.

“Yes.” He stepped closer. “Now.”

She smiled faintly — the first real flicker of defiance she’d felt all night. “Come and get it.”

He lunged. She hurled the mop bucket at him, water splashing into his face. He cursed, wiping his eyes. She darted past him, slipping into the hall.

Boots pounded behind her. She ran, dodging commuters, and flung the decoy drive into a trash bin as she passed. She bolted up the far staircase into the street above, blending into the crowd leaving a late-night concert.

Her phone buzzed again.

A.W.: They took the bait. I’m coming.

Her knees nearly buckled with relief. She typed: Where?

But before he could answer, a van screeched to a stop in front of her. The side door slid open.

A hand shot out, yanking her inside.

The van roared away into the night.