Chapter 11 - The Midnight Raid on Bellweather and the Man Standing with the Matches
Ethan and Mia moved up the spiral wrought-iron staircase leading directly into the executive mezzanine.
The floor was slick with gasoline. Two red plastic canisters lay overturned beside the boardroom table.
Daniel Reed stood near the open floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the rain-lashed dining room below, holding a gold-plated Zippo lighter in his right hand. Gavin Pike stood five paces away, packing the last stacks of bearer bonds into a leather duffel bag.
"Did you double-check the pastry lines, Gavin?" Reed asked without turning around. "The arson investigator must conclude it was a catastrophic gas explosion."
"The lines are open, Mr. Reed," Pike grunted. "In five minutes, this entire building will be an inferno."
"A tragic loss," Reed sighed, flicking the Zippo open. The yellow flame danced in the dim room. "Though the insurance payout of seventy-five million will provide a delightful cushion while we finalize the Helios acquisition."
"You forgot to factor in one minor detail, Daniel," a cold, resonant voice cut through the darkness.
Reed froze.
Gavin Pike whipped around, his hand flying toward his waistband holster.
Before Pike could draw his weapon, Ethan stepped from the shadows and swung the heavy iron skillet with terrifying force. The cast iron struck Pike’s right forearm with a bone-shattering crunch. Pike screamed, dropping his gun to the floor as Ethan drove a vicious elbow into his jaw, knocking the corrupt security director cold against the mahogany desk.
Daniel Reed staggered backward, his face turning the color of wet chalk. The gold lighter trembled in his hand.
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"Ethan?" Reed gasped, his voice cracking. "You're... you're supposed to be—"
"Dead in a parking garage from sudden heart failure?" Ethan finished, stepping across the shattered glass and gasoline pools. "Just like Robert Sterling? Just like David Carter four years ago?"
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