Chapter 27 - THE CAT-AND-MOUSE GAME IN THE LIBRARY
Daniel ripped the flash drive from the USB port, shoved it into his pocket, and slid out of his chair so fast it crashed backward onto the linoleum floor. He didn't look back as he sprinted down the narrow aisle between the history and philosophy sections, heading for the emergency exit at the rear of the basement.
The heavy metal door was barred with a large red push-bar, but as Daniel slammed his weight against it, a blaring security alarm instantly pierced the silence of the library, flashing blinding strobe lights overhead. The lock held firm—it was deadbolted from the outside.
Heavy, measured footsteps echoed down the concrete stairs leading from the main floor into the basement.
"There's nowhere left to run, Daniel," a calm, amplified voice called out from the darkness near the stairs. It was the lead man from the alleyway. "You can't outrun a system that owns the streets, the buildings, and the very ground you walk on."
Panic threatened to overwhelm Daniel’s senses, but years of surviving his father’s psychological torture had forged an inner resilience that refused to break. He ducked behind a massive oak circulation desk, his chest heaving as he tried to control his breathing.
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He needed a distraction.
Spotted on the floor near a maintenance cart was a heavy canister of compressed industrial floor wax. Daniel grabbed it, pulled the safety pin with his teeth, jammed the release valve open with a metal binder clip, and hurled it across the room toward the breaker box. The canister hissed wildly, spinning out of control across the slick floor before slamming into the main electrical panel with a loud metallic crash, instantly short-circuiting the basement's primary power grid and plunging the entire lower level into absolute, pitch-black darkness, save for the strobing emergency lights.
