Chapter 4 - The Midnight River
The rain was coming down in sheeted torrents as Vance’s dark, armored sedan tore north along the Taconic State Parkway, cutting through the pitch-black woods of upstate New York.
Olivia sat in the passenger seat, her tablet resting on her knees, glowing softly in the dark cabin. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she listened to the encrypted radio chatter coming through Vance’s earpiece.
"Dominic stalled Hale’s team for twenty minutes," Vance reported, keeping his eyes glued to the slick asphalt ahead. "The NYPD arriving at the tower forced Hale’s men to pull back, but Hale’s private security detail picked up our vehicle signature on the bridge. They’re forty miles behind us."
"Did Dominic get out safe?" Olivia asked anxiously.
"Dominic has three teams of federal lawyers and private security clearing his path," Vance assured her. "He’ll meet us at the destination site near Cold Spring. Focus on the map, kid. We need the exact entry point before Hale’s vanguard catches up."
Olivia zoomed in on the topographical survey of the Hudson Highlands.
The musical cipher translated to a specific mathematical formula: The intersection of three granite pillars where the river water turns black at midnight.
"It’s an old Dutch stone quarry near Storm King Mountain," Olivia stated, referencing her father’s historical cross-checks. "The quarry was flooded in 1840, but the lower drainage tunnels connect to a pre-colonial iron mine. That’s where Salcedo’s descendants buried the vault."
Twenty minutes later, the sedan pulled off the paved highway onto a hidden dirt trail choked with overgrown hemlock trees. The headlights cut through the fog, revealing the rusted iron gates of the abandoned quarry site.
Vance cut the engine and pulled two high-powered tactical flashlights from the glove compartment, handing one to Olivia.
"Stay close to me," Vance said, checking his sidearm. "The rain will cover our tracks for a few minutes, but Hale’s men have thermal imaging."
They stepped out into the freezing storm, the mud clinging to Olivia’s sneakers as they waded through the thick brush toward a massive granite cliff face overlooking the roaring waters of the Hudson River.
At the base of the cliff stood a heavy stone archway, half-submerged in swamp water and overgrown with thick ivy. Carved directly into the keystone above the arch was a single, familiar symbol—the exact root character Olivia had recognized on the silver tray at The Sterling.
"This is it," Olivia whispered, her light illuminating the ancient stone carving. "The entrance to the Meridian Vault."
Footsteps crunched violently through the brush behind them.
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Bright tactical beams cut through the foggy woods as three armed men dressed in dark rain gear emerged from the tree line, led by Viktor Hale himself, holding a chrome-plated revolver.
"Thank you for doing the driving, little server," Hale sneered, his voice dripping with malice as his men raised their weapons. "Now hand over the tablet and step away from the archway."
