Chapter 9 - The Judas at the Table
My boots hit the wet teak deck hard.
I rolled behind the yacht’s raised carbon-fiber hot tub as heavy rifle fire
chewed through the fiberglass.
Dominic’s operators were already engaging Julian’s private security along the
side walkways.
Empty brass shell casings danced across the rain-slicked deck.
Julian Vance was on the forward gangway, sprinting toward the bridge.
He was still clutching a leather attaché case containing his primary hardware.
“Vance!” I yelled over the roar of the engines.
He didn't look back.
He shoved his way into the reinforced bridge and slammed the heavy pneumatic
watertight door shut.
A mechanical locking bolt engaged with a loud, final clunk.
Dominic appeared beside me, firing two rounds into a mercenary who leaped from
the upper lounge.
The guard collapsed over the stainless steel railing and vanished into the
churning black sea.
“He’s locked himself in the wheelhouse!” I shouted.
“Vincent! Breaching charge!” Dominic commanded.
Vincent pulled a strip of C4 explosive from his tactical pack.
He slapped it along the heavy steel hinges of the bridge door.
“Fire in the hole!”
We backed down the companionway stairs.
BOOM!
The explosion tore the reinforced steel door off its frame in a cloud of
blinding fire and black smoke.
Dominic led the breach.
I followed half a second later, my SIG Sauer raised.
Inside the shattered bridge, Julian Vance stood behind the main navigational
console.
He was clutching a detonator in his left hand.
His right hand was wrapped in bloody bandages from his broken wrist.
On the console beside him sat a military-grade thermite brick wired directly
into the ship’s master server racks.
“Step back!” Julian screamed, his voice cracking with pure madness.
“One squeeze and this entire bridge turns into three thousand degrees of liquid
iron!”
“The ledgers will burn!”
“The server will melt!”
“And neither of you will ever prove a damn thing!”
Dominic didn't stop.
He took three slow, deliberate steps forward into the bridge.
The wind from the shattered door whipped his wet shirt against his chest.
“Do it, Julian,” Dominic said quietly.
Julian blinked, utterly bewildered.
“What?”
“Press the button,” Dominic dared him.
“Burn the bridge. Melt the servers. We’re ten miles offshore.”
Dominic tilted his head, his dark eyes colder than the ocean outside.
“You die here tonight either way, Julian.”
“The only question is whether you die like a dog in a cage, or whether you die
screaming in the fire.”
Julian’s hand began to tremble violently against the detonator switch.
He looked at Dominic.
Then his eyes drifted to me.
He saw no pity in my face.
He saw no hesitation.
He saw only a daughter who had spent ten long years preparing to watch him fall.
“You’re a monster, Dominic,” Julian whimpered, his bravado finally crumbling
into dust.
“We built this monster together, Julian,” Dominic whispered.
In that split second of distraction, I didn't shoot his chest.
I aimed at his left wrist.
I squeezed the trigger.
A single nine-millimeter round shattered the bones in Julian’s hand.
The detonator flew from his grip and clattered harmlessly across the rubber
floor mats.
Julian collapsed to his knees, screaming in agony, clutching his ruined arm to
his chest.
Vincent kicked the detonator out the shattered door and into the Atlantic Ocean.
Dominic walked over to the console.
He pulled the thermite brick free and threw it out into the water behind the
detonator.
I walked over to Julian.
He looked up at me, sobbing, covered in sweat, rain, and blood.
“Elena… please…” he begged.
“I have sixty million in a Zurich vault. It’s yours. All of it.”
“I’ll sign the accounts over right now. Just let me take a liferaft.”
I looked down at the man who had ordered my father thrown into the East River.
He looked so small.
So pathetic.
All his tailored coats and political connections couldn't save him from the
truth.
“My father had five thousand dollars in his checking account when you killed
him, Julian,” I said softly.
“He died an honest man.”
“You’re going to spend the rest of your miserable life in a maximum-security
federal facility, stripped of every single dime you ever stole.”
I brought the butt of my heavy pistol down across his temple.
Julian Vance slumped face-first onto the deck, unconscious.
Dominic let out a long breath.
He walked over to the central server bank, pulled out a high-capacity thumb
drive, and began the final system clone.
“The evidence is securing,” Dominic said.
May you like
He turned to look at me through the smoky haze of the ruined bridge.
“It’s over, Elena.”
