Chapter 3 - The Ghost Speaks
The "stronghold" was a brutalist concrete fortress disguised as a sprawling hunting lodge in the remote mountains of Montana. It was entirely off the grid, powered by geothermal energy, and guarded by ex-military contractors loyal only to Julian.
Elena was resting in the master suite, Leo sleeping peacefully in a high-tech bassinet next to her.
Down in the tactical command center, Julian sat at a bank of monitors with Marcus. They were tracing the financial breadcrumbs Elena had given them.
“Victor faked his death seven years ago to escape a forty-million-dollar debt to the Sinaloa cartel,” Marcus explained, pulling up encrypted bank records. “But he didn’t just hide. He spent the last seven years building a shadow network, using your company’s name to launder cartel money. That’s why he didn’t kill you outright. He needed your clean reputation as a shield.”
Suddenly, the secure satellite phone on the desk rang.
Julian stared at it. Only three people in the world had that number. He hit the speaker button.
“Hello, little brother,” a chillingly familiar, aristocratic voice echoed through the room.
Julian’s knuckles turned white. “Victor.”
“Congratulations on the birth of my nephew,” Victor purred. “I hear he has Elena’s eyes. It’s a shame he’s going to grow up an orphan.”
“You’re a dead man, Victor. I buried you once. I’ll enjoy doing it for real this time.”
Victor laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “You always were the dramatic one, Julian. But let’s talk business. You have something I want. Your company. The cartel is demanding their money, with heavy interest. I need you to sign over the Sterling Empire to Vanguard Group. If you don’t, I won’t just kill you. I’ll make sure Elena and the boy are sold to the highest bidder in Juárez.”
“Come and get me,” Julian growled.
“Oh, I don’t have to,” Victor replied. “Look out the window, Julian.”
May you like
The line went dead.
Marcus lunged for the security cameras. The perimeter motion sensors were lighting up red. Dozens of heavily armed men in winter camouflage were emerging from the tree line, converging on the lodge.
