Chapter 3: The Whistle-blower

My heels clicked against the polished marble floor of the university hallway, echoing in the late-night silence. The dim fluorescent lights cast long shadows as I hurried towards my office, my mind racing with the implications of my latest economic model. If I was right—and I knew I was—the global financial system was balanced on a knife's edge.

I fumbled with my keys, the jangling sound unnaturally loud in the quiet corridor. As I pushed open the heavy wooden door, a chill ran down my spine. Something was off.

My office was exactly as I'd left it, or so it seemed at first glance. Stacks of papers covered every surface, economic journals were piled high on the floor, and my multiple monitors glowed with screensavers displaying fluctuating market data. But there, perched on the edge of my desk, was an unmarked envelope that definitely hadn't been there before.

Heart pounding, I approached it cautiously. With trembling fingers, I picked it up, feeling the weight of something inside. As I tore it open, a small, sleek USB drive fell into my palm.

"Dr. Chen."

I whirled around, nearly dropping the drive. A figure stood in the shadows by my bookcase, barely visible in the dim light from the window.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" I demanded, my voice steadier than I felt.

The figure stepped forward, revealing a man in his mid-thirties, his face haggard and eyes darting nervously. "That doesn't matter. What matters is what's on that drive. You need to see it. Now."

I hesitated, my grip tightening on the USB. "I don't—"

"Please," he interrupted, his voice cracking. "There isn't much time. They'll realize I'm gone soon."

The urgency in his tone made me pause. Against my better judgment, I turned to my computer, inserted the drive, and opened the files.

My eyes widened as I scrolled through document after document. Financial records, internal memos, and code snippets flashed across the screen. It was a treasure trove of corporate secrets, but from a company I'd never heard of: Drake Technologies.

"This is..." I trailed off, my mind racing to connect the dots.

"The missing piece to your economic model," the man finished for me. "Dr. Chen, what you've theorized? It's happening. But it's not just market forces at work. It's being engineered."

I spun in my chair to face him. "Engineered? By whom? This Drake Technologies?"

He nodded grimly. "They're just the tip of the iceberg. There's a whole network, a conspiracy that goes deeper than you can imagine. Your work has gotten too close to the truth. They're watching you."

A chill ran through me. "Who's watching me?"

Before he could answer, the lights in my office flickered. The man's face paled. "They're here. We need to go. Now!"

I grabbed my bag, shoving the USB drive deep inside, and followed him to the door. As he cracked it open, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

"Back door," I whispered, leading him towards the rarely used exit at the rear of the building.

We raced through darkened corridors, the sound of pursuit growing louder behind us. I could hear voices now, barking orders. Whoever they were, this was no campus security patrol.

We burst out into the cool night air, the man grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the parking lot. "My car," he panted. "We'll be safe if we can—"

A gunshot cracked through the air. The man stumbled, crying out in pain.

"Keep going!" he gasped, shoving me forward as he clutched his shoulder.

I ran, my lungs burning, aware of the footsteps closing in behind us. The parking lot was just ahead, a sleek black car standing out among the others.

Another shot rang out. I ducked instinctively, hearing the bullet whiz past my ear. The car beeped as the man pressed a key fob, the doors unlocking.

"Get in!" he yelled, practically throwing himself into the driver's seat.

I dove into the passenger side, slamming the door shut just as our pursuers emerged from the shadows. The engine roared to life, tires screeching as we peeled out of the parking lot.

I risked a glance back, seeing dark figures piling into vehicles of their own. "They're following us," I said, my voice shaky.

The man grimaced, his left hand pressed against his bleeding shoulder as he steered with his right. "In the glove compartment. There's a phone. Security code 7392. Call the only number saved."

With trembling fingers, I did as he said. The phone rang once, twice—

"Drake," a deep voice answered.

"I—I'm with your whistleblower," I stammered. "We're being chased. He's been shot."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Where are you?"

I looked around, trying to get my bearings as we sped through the city streets. "Heading east on 5th Avenue, just passed Grand Street."

"Listen carefully," the voice commanded. "Three blocks ahead, there's an underground parking garage. Enter it. Take the elevator to the roof. A helicopter will be waiting. You have four minutes."

The line went dead.

"Did you hear that?" I asked the whistleblower.

He nodded grimly, swerving to avoid a car that suddenly pulled out in front of us. "Hold on."

The next few minutes were a blur of screeching tires, honking horns, and my own terrified gasps as we weaved through traffic at breakneck speed. Our pursuers were falling behind, but still in sight.

The parking garage loomed ahead. We shot inside, tires squealing as we took the ramps at dangerous speeds. Reaching the highest level, the whistleblower brought the car to a shuddering halt near the elevators.

"Go," he said, his face pale and drawn. "I'll hold them off."

"But—"

"Go!" he shouted, pushing a gun into my hands. "The roof. You have less than two minutes."

Heartbeating wildly, I stumbled out of the car and into the elevator, jabbing the button for the roof. As the doors closed, I caught a final glimpse of the whistleblower, slumped over the steering wheel.

The elevator seemed to move at an agonizingly slow pace. I could hear shouts and more gunshots below. Sixty seconds. Forty-five. Thirty.

With a ding, the doors opened onto the roof. The wind whipped at my hair as I ran out, searching the dark sky desperately.

Where was the helicopter? Had I misunderstood? Or worse, had I been set up?

The sound of the elevator moving again spurred me into action. I ran to the edge of the roof, looking for any means of escape. There was none.

The elevator dinged. I spun around, raising the gun with shaking hands.

The doors slid open.

And that's when I saw him for the first time. The man whose company was at the center of it all. The man whose voice I'd heard on the phone.

Ethan Drake.

He stepped onto the roof, his piercing eyes locking onto mine. In that moment, I knew my life would never be the same.

"Dr. Chen," he said, his voice calm despite the chaos around us. "It's time you learned the truth."

The sound of helicopter blades filled the air, and a bright spotlight illuminated the roof. As I squinted against the glare, one thought echoed through my mind:

What the hell have I gotten myself into?