Chapter 18 - The Trap Within the Trap
I stared at Julianna in stunned silence, the sound of the rain lashing against the cedar roof fading into background noise.
"My father knew?" I asked, my voice cracking. "All this time, he knew Richard was dirty?"
"Your father knew Richard was ambitious and corruptible," David Vance explained, checking the chamber of a compact semi-automatic pistol he pulled from his jacket. "He didn't know Richard would go so far as to orchestrate Julianna's crash or physically assault you. But he knew that Conrad Sterling was the puppet master pulling the strings of Bennett Capital. Your father spent his final months laying the groundwork for a dead-man's trap."
"Then why did Sterling demand my retinal scan?" I asked. "Why are his men hunting me right now?"
"Because the Trojan requires a trigger to initiate the broadcast," Julianna said, stepping toward a hidden alcove behind an old workbench. She moved a stack of rusted oil drums, revealing a heavy, military-grade steel case bolted into the bedrock. "Your father locked the transmission trigger with your biometrics. Not to decrypt the military files, Claire—to unleash the evidence against Sterling. Sterling thinks he’s cracking open a treasure chest. In reality, he’s holding a live grenade. And he needs your thumbprint to pull the pin."
Before we could speak further, the wooden double doors at the front of the boathouse splintered inward with an explosive blast.
Flash-bang grenades detonated with blinding white light and a deafening roar that sent me sprawling to the damp wooden planks, my ears ringing with high-pitched agony. Through the thick smoke, laser sights cut through the darkness like crimson needles.
"Down! On the floor!" voices roared.
David fired two rapid shots into the smoke, forcing the tactical team to take cover behind the pilings, but an automated burst of suppressed submachine gun fire shredded the workbench into splinters. David grunted in pain, dropping to one knee as a ricochet grazed his shoulder.
Two operatives tackled Julianna to the floor, pinning her down.
May you like
A heavy boot stepped onto my wrist, pinning my hand flat against the wet wood. Raymond Vance knelt beside me, his cold eyes unblinking behind tactical goggles. He pressed a pair of flex-cuffs around my wrists and hauled me to my feet like a rag doll.
"Secure the Vance girl and the uncle," Raymond Vance ordered into his tactical headset. "We have the primary subject. Transport Mrs. Bennett to the upstate estate immediately. Director Sterling is waiting."
