Blackout Protocol

Chapter Nine

Sarah's phone rang as they hit the street behind Whitmore's building. Ellis.

"Talk to me," she answered, scanning for patrol cars.

"We got three," Ellis said without preamble. "Detective Lisa Park, Officer Andre Williams, and Sergeant Michael Torres. All alive. All fighting the protocol like Whitmore did."

"That's four total. What about the other six?"

Silence stretched too long.

"Ellis."

"Two confirmed dead. Detective Robert Chen; no relation to you, and Officer Patricia Hammond. Both completed the protocol before we reached them. Chen shot himself in his garage. Hammond walked into traffic on the expressway."

Sarah's stomach turned. She'd known Patricia Hammond. Not well, but enough to remember her laugh at the Christmas party last year. Enough to remember she had a daughter starting college.

"The other four?"

"Still looking. We've got teams on three of them. The fourth; Detective Kevin Nash, is off grid. Phone's dead. No activity on his credit cards. Either he's already gone or he's hiding."

Marcus appeared beside her, slightly out of breath from the stairs. Sarah put the phone on speaker so he could hear.

"What do you need from us?" Marcus asked.

"Right now? Stay mobile. I'm sending you an address. It's a safe house in Lincoln Park. Get there and wait for my call. We're coordinating with local FBI offices, but this is turning into a circus. Media's picking up on multiple officer suicides happening simultaneously. Questions are being asked."

"Good," Sarah said. "Let them ask. Maybe public pressure could helps us."

"Or maybe it makes Devereaux panic and activate a bigger failsafe we don't know about." Ellis's tone was grim. "Just get to the safe house. I'll contact you in two hours."

The call ended. Sarah's phone chimed with an address.

"Lincoln Park," she said, showing Marcus the screen. "Thirty minutes in this traffic."

"We should check on the others Ellis mentioned. Park, Williams, Torres. Make sure they're really okay."

"Ellis has teams on them. We'd just be in the way."

Sarah began walking toward where they'd left her car, then stopped. "Wait. My car's been sitting there for twenty minutes. If anyone ran the plates…."

"It's burned," Marcus finished. "We need different transportation."

They stood in the alley, sirens wailing from multiple directions now. Whitmore's building was about to become a crime scene. Every cop in the vicinity would be converging.

Sarah scanned the area. Residential street. Mostly older cars parked along the curb. Nothing that screamed "steal me" but also nothing with modern security systems.

"There." Marcus pointed to a fifteen-year-old Honda Civic, faded blue paint, dent in the passenger door. "Easy to hotwire if you know how."

"Do you know how?"

"I arrested enough car thieves. Picked up a few things." Marcus moved toward the Civic, then paused. "This is a felony."

"So is breaking a murder suspect out of custody." Sarah kept watch while Marcus crouched by the driver's door. "We're already past the point of worrying about our records."

"Speak for yourself. I'm still holding out hope for redemption."

But Marcus was already working on the door lock with a piece of wire he'd pulled from a nearby fence.

Sarah's phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number: ‘Stop trying to save them. You're just delaying the inevitable.’

Her blood ran cold. She showed Marcus the screen.

"Unknown number," he said, still working the lock. "Could be anyone."

"Or it could be Devereaux. Watching us. Knowing exactly what we're doing."

The lock popped. Marcus pulled the door open, slid into the driver's seat. "Get in. We'll worry about who's texting you once we're mobile."

Sarah climbed into the passenger seat as Marcus worked under the steering column. Fifteen seconds later, the engine turned over.

"Where'd you learn that?"

"YouTube, mostly. Plus a very educational conversation with a sixteen-year-old who'd stolen forty cars before we caught him." Marcus put the Civic in gear. "He was actually pretty proud to explain his technique."

They pulled away from the curb just as three patrol cars screamed past, heading for Whitmore's building. Sarah watched them disappear in the side mirror, feeling the weight of every choice that had brought her to this moment.

Forty-eight hours ago, she'd been a decorated detective with a clear conscience. Now she was a fugitive in a stolen car, running from her own department, trying to stop a conspiracy that sounded insane even to her.

"You okay?" Marcus asked quietly.

"No. But I'm functional." Sarah checked her phone again. No new messages from the unknown number. "Marcus, what if we're wrong about this. What if there's some explanation we're missing and Devereaux is actually….."

"He's not. You've seen the evidence. Foster's documents, Moss's testimony before she died, Whitmore's memories. This is real."

"I know. But knowing something and accepting it are different things."

Sarah looked out the window at the city passing by. Normal people going about normal lives, completely unaware that twelve cops had been turned into weapons. "How many people died because of this program? How many murders were blamed on gang violence or robbery when they were actually sanctioned hits?"

"Whitmore said he killed fifteen people. If all twelve subjects were averaged the same…."

"That's a hundred and eighty murders. Minimum." Sarah felt sick. "A hundred and eighty people dead because Devereaux decided they were threats?"

"We don't even know if they were all criminals. Some might have been…."

"Does it matter? Even if every single victim was guilty of something, they didn't get trials. Didn't get lawyers or juries. They just got executed by cops who didn't even know they were pulling the trigger."

Marcus was quiet for a moment. Then: "When I was activated; when I killed Reyes, there was a second before the protocol took full control where I could still think. Still feel. And you know what I felt?"

Sarah waited.

"Relief. Because someone else was making the decision. Someone else was responsible. I didn't have to carry the weight of choosing to kill him….it was just happening, and I was along for the ride."

Marcus's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "That's the worst part. Not that I was used. But that part of me was grateful to be used."

"That's the programming talking. Designed to make you compliant."

"Maybe. Or maybe that's just who I am. A weapon looking for a target." Marcus glanced at her. "You ever think about that? That maybe Devereaux didn't create something new in us. Maybe he just revealed what was already there."

"No. I don't think that. And neither should you." Sarah's phone buzzed again. Different number, but she recognized it; Tommy Reeves. She answered. "Tommy."

"Chen. Where are you?"

"Can't say. What's wrong?"

"Everything. IAB is tearing apart the station looking for evidence that I helped Kane escape. Devereaux's been in lockdown with the superintendent for the past hour. And there's a BOLO out for you; armed and dangerous. You're suspected of killing Detective Moss."

"I had no choice with Moss. She was activated, she'd just killed Foster…."

"I know. Ellis briefed me. But that's not the official story. Official story is you and Kane are partners in some kind of killing spree. That you helped him escape because you're involved in whatever he's doing."

Sarah closed her eyes. Of course. Devereaux was flipping the narrative, making them the villains. "What about you? Are they going to arrest you?"

"Probably. But I've got union protection and a good lawyer. I'll survive." Tommy paused. "Sarah, listen to me. Whatever you're doing, whatever you're chasing….you need to be smarter than this. You're leaving a trail. Stolen car, witnesses at Whitmore's building, your phone pinging towers all over the city. They're going to find you."

"Let them. We've got evidence…."

"Evidence that sounds like conspiracy theory bullshit to anyone who hasn't seen it. Mind control? Programmed cops? Come on. You know how that plays." Tommy's voice softened. "I believe you. I believe Kane. But belief isn't enough. You need irrefutable proof, and you need it immediately."

"We're working on it."

"Work faster. Because I just heard Devereaux on the phone with someone. Couldn't hear everything, but I caught enough. He's moving up his timeline. Whatever endgame he's planning, it's happening soon."

Sarah's pulse quickened. "How soon?"

"Hours, not days. He kept saying 'final activation.' I don't know what that means, but it didn't sound good."

Final activation. Sarah looked at Marcus, saw from his expression that he'd heard.

"Tommy, thank you. For everything."

"Don't thank me yet. Just stay alive long enough to prove you're right." Tommy hung up.

Marcus pulled the Civic into an alley and stopped. "Final activation. What do you think that means?"

"Nothing good." Sarah pulled up Foster's documents on her phone, scrolling through technical jargon and diagrams. "Foster's notes mention a 'cascade protocol.' All subjects activated simultaneously for a coordinated operation. But there's another notation here….'terminal cascade.'"

"Terminal meaning what?"

"Meaning permanent. One final activation where all subjects carry out their missions and then…." Sarah found the relevant passage. "......'self-terminate to eliminate evidence and ensure program security.'"

Marcus went pale. "He's going to activate all of us. Everyone who's left. Make us kill whoever's on his target list, then make us kill ourselves."

"Not just the remaining subjects. All twelve. Including the ones we just saved." Sarah's hands shook as she held the phone. "Whitmore, Park, Williams, Torres….they're still programmed. The suicide protocol failed, but the base programming is intact. Devereaux could activate them again whenever he wants."

"Then we need to get them somewhere safe. Somewhere Devereaux can't reach them."

"There is nowhere safe. The activation signal goes through their phones, and we can't ask them to destroy their only means of communication." Sarah scrolled further through Foster's notes. "Unless….wait. There's something here about signal blocking. Foster theorized that certain frequencies could create interference, prevent the activation signal from getting through."

"Do we have access to that kind of equipment?"

"No. But Ellis might." Sarah started to dial, then stopped. "Marcus. If Devereaux is planning a final activation, he'll need targets. Specific people he wants dead. Who would be on that list?"

Marcus thought for a moment. "Anyone who threatens the program. Foster was on it, that's why Moss killed him. Morrison was on it, that's why they killed him when he helped us."

"Ellis," Sarah said quietly. "Ellis is coordinating the investigation. He's the biggest threat."

"And Vasquez. She's in FBI custody, but if Devereaux thinks she'll talk…."

"He'll send someone to kill her. Someone who's already activated." Sarah's mind raced. "We need to warn Ellis. Now."

She dialed his number. It rang four times before going to voicemail.

Sarah tried again. Same result.

"He's not answering."

Marcus's expression was grim. "Because he's already dead, or because he's about to be."

Sarah pulled up Ellis's last known location from their text thread. FBI field office downtown.

"We have to go there. Warn him in person."

"That's walking into federal territory. We'll be arrested on sight."

"Better arrested than dead." Sarah put the address into the phone's GPS. "Drive."

Marcus hesitated for just a second, then put the Civic in gear and pulled back onto the street.

Twenty minutes to the FBI field office.

Twenty minutes to save a man who might already be dead.

And somewhere in the city, Captain Richard Devereaux was preparing his final move; one last activation that would eliminate every threat, every witness, every piece of evidence that could expose what he'd done.

The endgame was here.

And Sarah had no idea if they could survive it.