The television screen, controlled by the trembling secretary, switched to a national news station. A tense female anchor stared out at them, a graphic reading "BREAKING: FEDERAL FACILITY ATTACK" flashing beneath her.
"We interrupt this program with breaking news concerning a catastrophic security breach involving a maximum-security penitentiary vehicle from Lexington Federal," the anchor reported somberly. "Initial reports indicate an attempted seizure of the armored truck on a remote state highway. Sources confirm over 2,000 rounds of high-caliber ammunition were expended against the federal vehicle."
A ripple of nervous excitent ran through the table.
"Two thousand rounds! Good Lord!" an associate exclaid, pouring himself a new drink.
"See? Clean, efficient," Congressman Vance laughed, raising his hand triumphantly. "The problem is permanently removed. The evidence—"
"No! No! No! No!" Prosecutor Carter scread, slamming his hands on the table so hard that the wine bottles jumped. "Damn it! This is bullshit! This is utter, complete bullshit!"
Everyone stared at Carter, confused.
"What’s your problem, Carter? Why are you ruining the atmosphere?" Vance roared, his face darkening with renewed anger, pounding the table again. "I said shut up and—"
"Shut up, you old idiot!" Carter exploded, ignoring the Congressman entirely. "Don’t you understand we’re up to our necks in shit?!"
Vance turned beetroot red at the public insult, lunging across the table to strike Carter. "You dare—!"
Carter was ready. He was not a soft target; he caught Vance’s wrist mid-swing, twisted, and shoved the heavier man back into his chair.
Imdiately, two of Vance’s bodyguards moved, drawing sidearms and pointing them directly at the Prosecutor. The situation, fueled by alcohol and greed, spiraled out of control.
"Are you all imbeciles?" Carter ignored the drawn weapons, shouting at the entire table. "That was an illegal transfer! No one was supposed to know about the movent! Did you forget we paid a fortune to reduce their sentences?! When the dia learns why that transfer was necessary, we are completely screwed!"
Carter grabbed his hair in frustration. "And what the hell were your stupid assassins thinking? Leaving so much evidence! Over 2,000 rounds! They couldn’t even do one damn job cleanly!"
The realization hit Vance and his associates like a cold tidal wave. The news wasn’t a confirmation of success; it was confirmation of a catastrophic security failure that exposed their deepest secret. The transfer was supposed to be secret.
"How... how did this leak so fast?" Vincent Halbert finally spoke, his voice low and full of cold dread.
In the sudden silence, the news anchor’s voice cut through the private room again.
"...the anchor continued, confirming that the attack was successfully repelled. We now go live to Oakwood State Penitentiary, where we have images and statents from the guards who fought off the assault."
The screen switched to a chaotic scene outside Oakwood. A reporter was interviewing Miller and other loyal guards, all visibly battered and bandaged, Miller with a bloody dressing on his shoulder.
"Behind are the heroes who repelled this brutal attack," the reporter announced to the cara. "Officers Miller, Frank, and Davis, thank you for speaking with us despite your injuries. Officer Miller, can you describe the mont you realized the escort vehicles were not protecting you?"
Miller stepped slightly forward, his voice asured despite the visible strain. "It was instantaneous, ma’am. The mont the firing started, they broke formation and vanished," Miller described, nodding toward the road. "They were not fleeing out of panic; they were retreating according to plan. We realized we had been betrayed by our own personnel, complicit in this assassination attempt."
"Was the objective of this attack known?" the reporter asked.
"We do not know the objective yet," Miller confird, shaking his head. "What we do know is that this was clearly orchestrated from within the system. The District Attorney’s office is currently investigating the collusion at the highest level."
The reporter turned to the officer with a noticeable limp. "Officer Frank, how did you manage to survive that kind of overwhelming firepower?"
"Our academy training, ma’am, and sheer despair," Frank replied, his voice hoarse. "We used the vehicle itself as a shield while returning fire. We kept moving; we had to. We focused on escape, not engage."
"We were outnumbered and outgunned," Davis added, his face pale beneath the bandages. "But we had a mission, a routine transfer, and we were determined to complete it. We just kept asking ourselves, ’What would the Academy say?’"
"A ’routine transfer,’ yet the level of violence used was anything but routine," the reporter observed, trying to prod for more details. "Can you tell us anything about the nature of this transfer?"
Miller imdiately cut in, ensuring the narrative stayed on track. "It was a routine transfer, ma’am, part of standard federal protocol. Our focus now is on recovering and cooperating with the internal investigation to root out the traitors who endangered our lives. We thank God we survived."
"Thank you, Officers. Heroes, indeed," the reporter concluded, turning back to the cara. "As you heard, the details surrounding this ’routine transfer’ remain obscured, but the fact of the betrayal is clear. Back to you, Brenda."
"How did they survive? How?" Vance cursed, grabbing his throat.
"Contact Brown! Contact the assassins! What the hell is this?" The associates shouted, scrambling for their phones.
The secretaries, including the bloodied Peter, frantically tried to reach Director Brown and the hit squad leaders, but no one answered.
The television screen cut back to the newsroom anchor, whose expression was grim.
"We continue our coverage of the Lexington Federal Penitentiary security breach," the anchor reported. "The swift response by the authorities has been remarkable. We now go live to the District Attorney’s office for a statent from Prosecutor L. Wilson, who has been assigned lead counsel on this extraordinary case."
The screen switched again, showing a confident, asured man in a sharp suit standing before a wall of microphones. This was Prosecutor L. Wilson, an associate known to be aligned with Congressman Thompson, Vance’s primary rival.
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