Chapter 4 - The House on Maple Street
The armored Mercedes cut through the flooded streets of South End like a silent predator. Inside, the cabin was climate-controlled and luxurious, a stark contrast to the decaying urban landscape flashing past the bulletproof windows.
Dr. Sterling adjusted his glasses, watching Harold type furiously on a secure military-grade laptop. The glow of the screen cast an eerie blue light across the older man’s sharp features.
“I still don’t understand why I’m here,” Sterling muttered, breaking the heavy silence. “Lucas could have sent any clinic doctor. Why drag me out at midnight in a hurricane?”
“Because Mr. Blackwood trusts your discretion, Doctor, not just your medicine,” Harold replied without looking up from the screen. “And because the threat landscape of this estate has changed. If Elena Carter is sick, we need to know why. If she’s a vector for something worse, we need to neutralize it before dawn.”
Ten minutes later, the vehicle slowed to a halt in front of a crumbling four-story brick tenement on Maple Street. Paint peeled from the window frames like old scabs, and the front steps were warped and rotting.
Harold stepped out first, an umbrella shielding him from the driving rain, followed by two armed guards who quickly secured the perimeter. Sterling stepped out gingerly, trying to keep his expensive leather shoes out of the churning black puddles.
“Apartment 4B,” Harold read from the file on his phone. “Fourth floor. No elevator.”
They climbed the narrow, pitch-black stairwell, the air thick with the smell of damp plaster, cheap cooking oil, and lingering decay. When Harold knocked on the peeling wooden door of 4B, there was no answer. He knocked again, harder.
A faint, rattling cough echoed from inside, followed by a weak, terrified voice. “Emma? Is that… is that you, baby?”
Harold exchanged a glance with the guards, then pushed down on the brass handle. The lock was old and gave way with a sharp crack.
The apartment was agonizingly small. A single room served as kitchen, living space, and bedroom. The walls were stained with water damage, and a single flickering overhead bulb illuminated the meager surroundings: a mattress on the floor, a stack of worn-out books, and an empty refrigerator.
Lying on the mattress beneath a thin, moth-eaten quilt was a woman who looked no older than thirty, though her face was hollowed out by intense suffering. Her skin was flushed with a high fever, and dark circles bruised the skin beneath her closed eyes.
“Mrs. Carter?” Sterling moved forward instantly, dropping his medical bag to the floor and pulling out a stethoscope.
Elena’s eyes fluttered open, panic flashing in their dull blue-gray depths. “Who… who are you? Where is my daughter? Where is Emma?”
“Calm down, Mrs. Carter,” Sterling said gently, pressing the cold metal disk against her chest. Her breathing was shallow, wheezing, and uneven. “I’m a physician. Your daughter is safe. She’s currently eating chicken soup at the Blackwood Estate.”
Elena gasped, trying to sit up, but a violent fit of coughing wracked her frail body. Blood speckled her dry lips. “The… the Blackwood Estate? No… no, she shouldn’t be there. It’s dangerous. They’re dangerous people…”
Harold stepped forward into the dim light, his expression unreadable. “Mrs. Carter, look at me. How does a woman dying of advanced pneumonia and severe malnutrition afford an apartment in this zip code, and more importantly, why did your daughter have a map to Mr. Blackwood’s private study?”
Elena stared at Harold, tears streaming silently down her pale cheeks. “I didn’t want to go there… I swear to God, I didn’t. But three days ago, men came to my door. Men with expensive suits and cold eyes. They left an envelope of cash, a resume template, and told me that if I didn't send my daughter to the Blackwood gates with a message, they would make sure she never saw another sunrise.”
May you like
Harold’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Who were they, Mrs. Carter? Give me names.”
“I don’t know their names!” Elena wept, clutching the thin quilt to her chest. “They said they worked for the O’Sullivan family. They said Mr. Blackwood’s car bomb was just a warning, and that Emma would be the final piece of the puzzle.”
