Chapter 7 - The Undercover Trap
My blood ran completely cold as the dim streetlamp illuminated the unmistakable face of that custom luxury watch.
Agent Vance was not the uncorrupted savior Florence had hoped he would be; he was another traitor on Mason’s payroll.
Vance noticed my hesitation and his warm smile instantly vanished into a cold, dangerous glare.
He dropped the pretense entirely and pulled a suppressed pistol from his trench coat, aiming it directly at my chest.
He ordered me to hand over the flash drive immediately if I wanted my daughter to live.
Brenda froze in terror, raising her hands slowly as the rain began to fall around us.
I kept my hand inside my pocket, my fingers tightly gripping the loaded 9mm pistol I had taken from Florence’s safe.
I knew I could not outdraw a trained federal agent, so I had to rely on my decades of high-stakes negotiation experience.
I looked Vance directly in the eye and told him that the flash drive was heavily encrypted.
I lied smoothly, claiming that if I didn't input a biometric thumbprint within five minutes of handing it over, the data would automatically delete itself.
Vance hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he mentally calculated the risk of my bold claim.
He knew his cartel bosses would torture him to death if he brought them a wiped drive.
That single second of hesitation was the only opening I needed to survive.
I pulled my hand from my pocket, but instead of the gun, I threw a handful of loose coins I had found in the library directly into his face.
Vance flinched instinctively, raising his arm to block the flying metal projectiles.
I stepped inside his guard, grabbed his gun hand, and twisted his wrist violently upward.
The suppressed pistol fired a bullet into the night sky with a quiet hiss.
I drove my knee hard into his stomach, sending the corrupt agent crashing to the wet pavement.
Brenda grabbed his dropped weapon, her hands shaking as she pointed it down at the groaning man.
I quickly zip-tied his hands behind his back using the tactical cuffs I found on his belt.
I knelt beside him and pressed the barrel of Florence's pistol against his kneecap.
I demanded to know exactly where Mason was holding my seven-year-old granddaughter.
Vance coughed up blood and laughed, telling me I was already way too late to save anyone.
He confessed that the girl wasn't hidden in a warehouse; Mason had brought her directly to the corporate gala.
Mason was keeping the child locked in my own executive penthouse suite at the top of the company tower as insurance.
Vance sneered, claiming the building was locked down by fifty armed cartel mercenaries disguised as private security.
We left the traitor bound in the alley and stole his unmarked federal vehicle.
I looked at the dashboard clock, realizing it was already eleven-thirty at night.
The emergency board meeting where Mason would officially steal my empire was starting in thirty minutes.
We drove aggressively toward the towering glass skyscraper that I had built with my own two hands.
I told Brenda that we were going to walk right through the front doors of my own company.
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As we approached the plaza, I saw my own face projected onto massive digital billboards outside the building.
The breaking news headline beneath my photo declared that I was a wanted fugitive responsible for a violent murder spree across the city.
