Chapter 4 - The Rat Trap
The 'Seabreeze Motel' smelled of stale smoke and bleach. Donovan sat on the edge of a sagging mattress, shivering in his ruined clothes. He had used his last bit of cash to buy a burner phone and a cheap bottle of vodka.
It had been twenty-four hours since the gala. His face was plastered on every news network. THE BILLION-DOLLAR BUST.
He stared at the burner phone. He had one card left to play. He dialed a memorized, encrypted number. It belonged to Viktor Volkov, a Russian syndicate boss who operated out of South Beach. Donovan had quietly laundered Volkov’s money for years.
"Viktor, it's Cross," Donovan whispered frantically. "I need an extraction to South America. Tonight."
"Donovan," Viktor’s heavy, accented voice crackled. "You are a very hot commodity right now. Why should I help a dead man?"
"Because Elias Thorne is the one who took your money!" Donovan lied, spinning a desperate web. "He stole the master ledger. If you kill him, I’ll give you the keys to my hidden crypto wallets. Ten million dollars, Viktor. Just take Elias out."
"Ten million. An interesting offer. I will send a car to your location."
Donovan hung up, letting out a ragged breath. He took a swig of the cheap vodka. He was going to survive. He always did.
Suddenly, the flimsy motel door was kicked off its hinges.
May you like
Donovan scrambled backward against the headboard. Elias Thorne walked into the room, holding a suppressed pistol.
"You always were predictable, Donny," Elias said, locking the broken door behind him. "Did you really think I wouldn't have your burner tapped?"
