The Trap Closes
Chapter 07 - The Trap Closes
Arthur Vance raised an eyebrow, amused by Victor’s defiant stance. “You really think you’re in control here, Victor? My team cut your communications. No police are coming. My security forces control the roads for three miles around your estate.”
“I don't need the police, Arthur,” Victor smiled—a sharp, terrifying smile that made Arthur’s bodyguards shift uncomfortably. “I own a global security firm. Did you really think I didn't have a secondary automated satellite relay connected to my panic room?”
Arthur’s face froze.
Before Arthur could give an order to his men, the heavy concrete ceiling above them began to vibrate violently!
The roaring thunder of three heavy-duty tactical helicopters echoed directly over the mansion roof! Bright, blinding searchlights cut through the high basement windows, painting the subterranean hallway in brilliant white light!
CRASH!
Flashbang grenades rained down from the upper stairs, detonating with blinding light and deafening booms!
Thick white tactical smoke filled the basement in a fraction of a second!
“FEDERAL AGENTS! NOBODY MOVE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!”
Dozens of heavily armed SWAT officers clad in dark tactical gear flooded down the stairs, their assault rifle laser sights painting red dots across Arthur Vance and his bodyguards!
Arthur’s bodyguards immediately dropped their weapons, raising their hands in terror as federal agents tackled them to the concrete floor.
Arthur stood paralyzed in the swirling smoke, his ivory cane slipping from his numb fingers, crashing onto the wet floor.
Victor stepped through the smoke, catching Arthur by his coat collar, shoving him hard against the stone wall.
Officer Davis, the lead federal agent, stepped forward with his sidearm drawn, snapping heavy steel handcuffs around Arthur Vance’s wrists.
“Arthur Vance,” Officer Davis announced loudly over the roar of the hovering helicopters. “You are under arrest for federal racketeering, conspiracy to commit murder, corporate espionage, and domestic terrorism.”
Arthur glared at Victor with pure, defeat-ridden hatred. “You think you’ve won, Victor?! My lawyers will tie this up in court for ten years!”
“They won't get the chance, Arthur,” Victor whispered into his ear. “Because five minutes ago, your entire digital ledger was broadcast live to the Department of Justice, the IRS, and every major news network in North America.”
As federal officers dragged a screaming, ruined Arthur Vance up the basement stairs into the rainy night, Victor walked over to the heavy steel vault door.
He pressed his hand against the biometric scanner and spoke into the microphone:
May you like
“Master Code: Clara.”
The heavy steel door unlocked with a deep pneumatic hiss, slowly swinging outward.
