Page 96 of Anchor
Then, suddenly—too suddenly—he stiffened. “Wait,” he said, voice sharpened just enough to seem natural. “Hold on.”
Claire turned her head slowly. “What?”
He brought up a file, an old one, buried in a directory she wouldn’t have searched without a direct breadcrumb. “This. Compound 11L-Theta,” he said. “Off-books trial. Deniable asset testing out of Langley’s chemical warfare unit. Neurovascular suppression, latent hemorrhagic risk, and here, cognitive destabilization over time.”
He delivered it fast—smooth and urgent, like he was relieved to find something. And like he’d meant to find it all along.
Claire stepped in closer and scanned the data. It was close. The chemical fingerprint matched the one she’d been chasing, almost exactly. Structurally, it could be a sibling compound. Maybe even a match. But her gut twisted.
The timeline didn’t add up. This trial had been mothballed three years ago. The first emergence of the symptoms she was tracking was just fourteen months back. It was too long a gap. Too clean a paper trail. And Terry was too convincing.
She didn’t say that. But she felt it like a blade between her ribs. Something didn’t fit. And it wasn’t just the file.
CHASE MEDICAL – OR 3 – 0447 HOURS
“Jesus, his pupils just blew,” Pete’s voice snapped.
Beth’s eyes flew to the monitor. “Brain bleed.”
“The compound must’ve crossed the barrier. It’s in the central nervous system.” Foley threw a retractor at the wall.
The pressure alarm screamed.
Tuck’s hand slipped against the chest wall. “He’s coding.”
“Pulse?” Beth asked.
“Gone!” Pete cried out.
“Shock pads!”
“No time.” Tuck didn’t hesitate. He dropped the retractor, gloved hands already diving back inside the chest. And then he squeezed Reid’s heart manually, his own breath shaking. “We are not losing him.”
Pete was already clearing the lines. “He’s bleeding out in the skull.”
Beth called out, “Someone call Foley's neuro trauma team. We’re cracking the vent. He needs decompression now.”
A nurse grabbed the craniotomy tray. If they didn’t relieve the pressure in Reid’s brain, it was all over. The OR turned to hell.
Every second, Tuck’s hand compressed and released, keeping Reid’s heart moving.
And still, the brain pressure climbed.
VOS’S OBSERVATION – SAME TIME
The line blinked.
SUBJECT HANLON: CEREBRAL EVENT TRIGGERED.
OXYGEN DISRUPTION — MANUAL CIRCULATION IN PROGRESS.
Vos didn’t smile. He closed the file and opened the next one.
STAGE TWO: ACTIVE
COGNITIVE LINK TARGET: CLAIRE BOWMAN
SECONDARY COLLAPSE VECTOR: EMOTIONAL DISSONANCE
