Chapter 6
The sterile white corridors of Walter Reed National Military Medical Center were heavily guarded by federal tactical units. Inside the private recovery ward, Marcus lay bandaged in bed, groaning in pain while staring at the ceiling monitors.
A nurse entered the room quietly, wearing a surgical mask and pushing a medication cart with mechanical efficiency. Marcus didn't notice the nurse's gloved fingers bypassing the standard intravenous bag to inject an unknown clear liquid.
"What is that medication? My leg already burns," Marcus muttered irritably, trying to shift his heavy cast. The nurse didn't answer, pulling down the surgical mask to reveal the cold, calculating face of a professional operative.
Marcus's eyes widened in sudden, suffocating panic as he recognized the face of his syndicate's cleanup specialist. "You... you're here to silence me before I talk to the grand jury," Marcus choked out, gasping for air.
"Sterling sends his regards; loose ends must be tied permanently," the operative whispered softly into his ear. Before Marcus could trigger the bedside emergency panic button, his heart monitor flatlined into a continuous, piercing tone.
The operative slipped out of the room through the service stairwell just as federal guards rushed through the door. Within seconds, the floor was locked down under absolute quarantine protocols as frantic medical teams attempted resuscitation.
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Word of the assassination reached Claire at the safehouse within ten minutes through secure encrypted channels. Claire stood by the window, staring out at the misty mountain ridge with a chilling, dead-calm resolve.
"They just eliminated their own pawn because they were terrified of what Marcus would confess," Claire deduced aloud. "Sterling is panicking, which means he is about to make a tactical error we can exploit," Agent Miller agreed.
