CHAPTER 9 – Legacy Protocol
The room fell silent.
Marcus's words hung in the air like smoke.
"Victor didn't steal this operation. He inherited it."
Rebecca stared at the frozen drone image.
"The program ended in 1988."
Marcus slowly shook his head.
"That's what Congress was told."
He zoomed in on the iron crest.
A wolf.
Four stars.
The Latin words beneath it were barely visible.
Custodire Futurum.
"Protect the Future."
"I saw that crest once," Marcus said quietly.
"Where?"
"My first week at the Justice Department."
Thirty-two years earlier...
Marcus had been a young federal prosecutor assigned to a classified briefing.
He wasn't allowed to take notes.
He wasn't allowed to mention what he saw.
The meeting lasted only fifteen minutes.
On the conference table sat a single folder stamped:
LEGACY PROTOCOL
Inside were photographs of newborns.
Government officials.
Military officers.
Corporate heirs.
Every child had been assigned a "risk rating."
Marcus had asked one question.
"What is this?"
The senior official had answered without emotion.
"The future of national stability."
The folder disappeared.
No one ever mentioned it again.
Rebecca folded her arms.
"You're telling me the government selected babies?"
"I'm telling you someone inside the government did."
"And Victor inherited the program?"
Marcus nodded grimly.
"Or bought it."
Miles away, Claire's newborn slept peacefully inside a warmly lit nursery.
No bars.
No restraints.
No signs of neglect.
The room looked almost luxurious.
A woman in her sixties gently rocked the crib.
She smiled down at the baby.
"You're beautiful."
Victor entered quietly.
"How is she?"
"Healthy."
"As expected."
The woman looked at him.
"She deserves better."
Victor sighed.
"They all do."
For the first time, his voice carried something that almost sounded like regret.
The Shepherd entered moments later.
"We have company."
Victor didn't look surprised.
"Federal?"
"Not yet."
"Who?"
The Shepherd placed a satellite photograph on the table.
A black SUV approached the valley from the south.
Victor smiled faintly.
"Evelyn."
Back at St. Gabriel, Claire refused to leave the maternity ward.
"I won't go home without her."
The doctors argued.
The agents insisted she needed protection.
She refused everyone.
Finally she looked at me.
"Mom..."
"I know."
"No."
She grabbed my hand.
"I remember something."
I leaned closer.
"What?"
"It wasn't a dream."
"What wasn't?"
Claire closed her eyes.
"When I was little..."
She struggled to breathe evenly.
"...I used to draw the same house over and over."
"What house?"
"The one from Victor's picture."
Blackwood Manor.
"You've never been there," I said.
Claire opened her eyes.
"I have."
My heart skipped.
"No."
She nodded.
"I remember a staircase."
"A grandfather clock."
"A little girl with red hair."
I stared at her.
"Claire..."
"I thought they were imaginary memories."
She looked terrified.
"What if they aren't?"
Rebecca immediately ordered childhood records pulled from storage.
Within an hour, boxes from Claire's elementary school arrived.
Inside were dozens of crayon drawings.
Every single one showed the same stone mansion.
The same circular driveway.
The same iron gate.
One drawing made everyone stop.
Two little girls stood holding hands.
One was labeled:
Claire
The other...
Emily
Rebecca frowned.
"Emily who?"
A forensic artist enhanced the faded drawing.
Beneath the second child, barely visible in pencil, appeared a surname.
Emily Voss.
Marcus looked up sharply.
"Victor had a daughter."
Rebecca searched every available database.
Nothing.
Birth certificates.
School records.
Medical files.
There was no Emily Voss.
Officially...
She had never existed.
The tactical convoy reached the mountain valley just before midnight.
Helicopters circled overhead with infrared cameras.
The abandoned orphanage appeared deserted.
No lights.
No guards.
No movement.
Too quiet.
Rebecca gave the order.
"Move in."
Agents breached the front entrance.
Empty classrooms.
Dust-covered furniture.
Broken windows.
No people.
No babies.
Nothing.
The entire building had been abandoned years earlier.
Or so it seemed.
One rookie agent noticed fresh tire tracks leading behind the main building.
He followed them to an old chapel.
Inside stood rows of wooden pews.
A cracked stained-glass window.
An ancient pipe organ.
He stepped toward the altar.
The floor creaked beneath him.
"Hollow."
Within minutes, engineers lifted the stone platform.
Beneath it...
Another elevator.
Descending deep into the mountain.
As the tactical team prepared to enter, every light inside the chapel suddenly illuminated.
The pipe organ began playing by itself.
A projector hidden above the altar flickered on.
Victor Voss appeared on the screen.
Not live.
Pre-recorded.
He smiled calmly.
"If you're watching this..."
"...then you've reached the first door."
Rebecca stared silently.
Victor continued.
"You still believe you're rescuing one child."
His smile faded.
"You're actually searching for twenty-three."
The screen changed.
Twenty-three photographs appeared.
Each showed a child between newborn and ten years old.
Including Claire's daughter.
Every one of them was alive.
Every one of them had disappeared from a Voss-owned hospital.
Victor's final words echoed through the chapel.
"You cannot save them all."
The video ended.
Before anyone could react...
The elevator doors beneath the chapel slowly opened on their own.
Cold air drifted upward.
Deep below...
A child's voice called out.
"Help..."
Another voice answered.
Then another.
Soon dozens of frightened children could be heard crying in the darkness.
The rookie agent instinctively stepped forward.
Rebecca threw out her arm.
"Don't!"
Too late.
The moment his boot touched the elevator platform—
A deafening explosion ripped through the chapel.
The blast hurled agents across the room.
Dust and shattered stone filled the air.
When the smoke cleared...
The elevator shaft had completely collapsed.
The children's voices were gone.
And beneath the rubble, investigators found only one object left intact.
A small wooden toy horse.
May you like
Identical...
To the one hidden beneath Blackwood Manor.
