Chapter 8 - The Syndicate's Justice
The syndicate boss stood over us with a cold, calculating expression.
He wore an expensive silk tie and held a silver-headed walking cane.
He looked down at Vanessa with absolute disgust.
He told her that her sloppy handling of this operation had drawn far too much federal attention.
Vanessa pleaded for her life, blaming the corrupt police and my unexpected interference.
The boss silenced her by striking her across the face with his heavy cane.
He then turned his attention to me.
He complimented my bravery but stated that my survival was a massive liability for his organization.
He ordered his tactical team to execute us both and stage it to look like a murder-suicide.
I knew this was the end of the line unless I played my last remaining card.
I looked the boss in the eye and laughed coldly.
I told him that the documents from the safety deposit box were already in the mail to the Attorney General.
I lied with absolute conviction, claiming that killing me would trigger an automatic release of unredacted files to the press.
The boss hesitated for a fraction of a second.
That was all the time I needed.
A deafening explosion rocked the floor above us.
The corrupt police officers had apparently decided to turn on the syndicate to save themselves.
Gunfire erupted in the bank lobby as a massive turf war broke out between the cops and the cartel.
The tactical guards in the vault turned their weapons toward the ceiling in confusion.
I used the distraction to sweep the legs of the guard standing closest to me.
I grabbed his dropped rifle and fired three rapid shots into the remaining guards.
The syndicate boss tried to draw a weapon from his jacket.
I shot the silver cane right out of his hand and ordered him to freeze.
He raised his hands slowly, a look of genuine surprise on his face.
I grabbed Vanessa by her collar and hauled her to her feet.
I forced the boss to walk in front of us as a human shield.
We moved cautiously up the marble stairs toward the lobby.
The bank was a complete war zone of shattered glass and bullet-ridden walls.
We slipped out through the loading dock doors and into the chaotic streets.
I shoved Vanessa and the boss into the back of an abandoned delivery van.
I climbed into the driver's seat and hot-wired the engine.
As I sped away from the bank, my encrypted radio finally crackled to life.
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A voice demanded my exact location, but it wasn't the police or the FBI.
It was my father.
