Chapter 8: The Black Briefcase

The freezing wind hit Claire Moreau like a wall.

One moment she was inside the train.

The next she was clinging to a narrow maintenance ledge on the outside of a speeding carriage.

Snow whipped across her face.

Her fingers burned from the cold.

Below her, darkness rushed past at terrifying speed.

One mistake would send her falling into the valley.

The thought alone made her stomach twist.

Ahead, Adrian Keller moved carefully along the metal ledge.

The train had slowed significantly but was still moving too fast for a safe jump.

Claire focused on breathing.

One step.

Then another.

The mountain air felt sharp enough to cut skin.

Behind them, the compartment window remained shattered.

Gas continued pouring into the carriage.

Masked Nightglass operatives would discover their escape within seconds.

They needed distance.

Fast.

Adrian finally reached a maintenance hatch connecting two carriages.

He pulled it open and disappeared inside.

Claire followed immediately.

The hatch dropped them into a narrow service chamber.

Warm air replaced the freezing wind.

For several seconds neither spoke.

Both simply stood there catching their breath.

Claire's hands shook violently.

Partly from cold.

Partly from adrenaline.

Adrian looked through a small inspection window.

The extraction site is getting closer.

Claire joined him.

Floodlights illuminated a large section of track ahead.

Black vehicles waited in organized rows.

Temporary structures surrounded the area.

Armed personnel moved between them.

Everything about the operation looked professional.

Military professional.

This wasn't a criminal gang.

This wasn't human trafficking.

This was something larger.

Much larger.

A sudden metallic clank echoed from above.

Adrian immediately looked upward.

They're searching.

Claire listened carefully.

Footsteps.

Multiple.

Moving across the roof of the train.

Nightglass operatives.

Tracking them.

The realization sent another wave of fear through her body.

Adrian opened a side maintenance panel.

Inside was a narrow storage compartment.

Several toolboxes rested on metal shelves.

Emergency equipment.

Spare components.

And something else.

A black leather briefcase.

Claire frowned.

That doesn't belong here.

Exactly.

The briefcase looked expensive.

Executive-level expensive.

No labels.

No markings.

No identification.

Only a small silver lock.

Adrian removed it carefully.

Why would a briefcase be hidden inside a maintenance compartment?

Claire already suspected the answer.

Because someone didn't want it found.

The lock appeared electronic.

Adrian examined it briefly.

Can you open it?

Maybe.

You always say maybe.

Because certainty gets people killed.

Claire rolled her eyes despite the situation.

The lock beeped softly.

Then clicked.

Adrian looked surprised.

That was easier than expected.

Claire immediately became suspicious.

Too easy.

They opened the briefcase.

Both froze.

Inside were documents.

Hundreds of pages.

Photographs.

USB drives.

Identity cards.

Passenger manifests.

And at the very top sat a folder marked NIGHTGLASS INTERNAL.

Claire's pulse accelerated.

Jackpot.

Adrian quickly flipped through the documents.

The first pages contained passenger lists.

Names.

Ages.

Nationalities.

Classifications.

The same word appeared repeatedly.

TRANSFERRED.

RELOCATED.

TERMINATED.

Claire felt sick.

Human lives reduced to administrative categories.

Then she found something worse.

A photograph.

She pulled it free.

The image showed a group of people standing outside an isolated facility somewhere in the mountains.

Several wore security uniforms.

Others appeared to be scientists.

One face immediately caught her attention.

Adrian.

What?

This man.

She pointed.

A middle-aged executive in a dark suit.

Adrian's expression darkened instantly.

I know him.

Who is he?

Dr. Viktor Weiss.

The name meant nothing to Claire.

Should it?

Three years ago he disappeared from public life.

Officially.

Unofficially?

He was involved in advanced behavioral research.

The kind governments deny funding.

Claire looked at the photograph again.

Viktor Weiss stood in the center of the group.

Everyone else faced the camera.

He seemed to be staring directly at whoever took the picture.

Almost as if he knew someone would eventually find it.

A folded sheet slipped from the folder.

Claire picked it up.

Her heart nearly stopped.

The document was titled:

PHASE TWO PASSENGER SELECTION.

Beneath it appeared a list of names.

Dozens of them.

Then hundreds.

Claire scanned the page.

Her own name appeared near the top.

Claire Moreau.

Status: Active Subject.

Risk Level: High.

Transfer Required.

She stared at the words.

Transfer required.

They were never planning to kill me.

Adrian looked over her shoulder.

No.

They wanted you alive.

Why?

Neither had an answer.

Claire searched further.

Another name appeared.

Adrian Keller.

Status: Survivor.

Monitoring Continues.

Survivor.

The same classification Sofia mentioned.

Claire looked at him.

You're listed too.

I noticed.

The silence that followed felt heavy.

Then Claire discovered something else.

A photograph tucked between the pages.

A familiar face.

Her breath caught.

Matthias Keller.

Adrian immediately grabbed the photo.

His brother.

Alive.

The image was recent.

Weeks old at most.

Matthias stood beside a large building surrounded by fences.

His expression looked vacant.

Almost emotionless.

But he was alive.

Adrian stared at the picture.

For the first time since meeting him, Claire saw genuine emotion break through his controlled exterior.

Hope.

Fear.

Relief.

All at once.

He's alive.

Claire nodded.

Looks that way.

A loud crash interrupted the moment.

Someone had entered the service chamber.

Both turned instantly.

A masked Nightglass operative stood at the far end of the compartment.

Weapon raised.

Unlike previous attackers, this one didn't hesitate.

He fired immediately.

The bullet slammed into the metal wall beside Claire's head.

Sparks exploded through the air.

Adrian grabbed the briefcase.

Move!

They ran.

The service chamber connected to another maintenance corridor.

Bullets struck metal behind them.

The operative pursued without slowing.

Claire's lungs burned.

The train continued approaching the extraction site.

Floodlights flashed through small windows.

Time was running out.

Ahead, another hatch appeared.

Adrian forced it open.

Both climbed through.

The corridor beyond was empty.

For now.

Claire clutched the black briefcase tightly.

Inside it was proof.

Proof that Nightglass existed.

Proof that passengers were being taken.

Proof that Matthias Keller was alive.

And proof that someone had been tracking Claire long before she boarded the train.

The operative emerged behind them.

Closer now.

Faster.

Relentless.

Adrian looked ahead.

The front section of the train was only a few carriages away.

Somewhere beyond it lay the people controlling the operation.

Somewhere beyond it lay answers.

Claire tightened her grip on the briefcase.

Whatever happened next, they could not afford to lose it.

Because for the first time all night, they weren't chasing clues anymore.

They were carrying them.