Chapter 6 - The Trap at Boylston
The morning sky over Boston was grey and heavy, thick with cold coastal fog that rolled off the bay and smothered the granite buildings of the financial district.
Our convoy of three dark, armored SUVs moved down Boylston Street with quiet, threatening speed. I sat in the middle vehicle between Damon and his security chief, Gabe—a towering man with a quiet demeanor and a scar across his jaw.
Damon had forced me to wear a bulletproof vest under my wide coat. It was heavy, uncomfortable, and pressed unpleasantly against my baby, but I didn't complain.
"The bank has been cleared," Gabe reported from the front seat, looking at his encrypted phone. "Our men are stationed inside the lobby and on the roof. Bank manager is briefed. He knows we’re coming under private security escort."
"What about Marquetti's people?" Damon asked, his dark eyes scanning the crowded street outside through the tinted glass.
"Quiet," Gabe murmured. "Too quiet. Victor’s hotel on Park Plaza is only four blocks from here. He knows we didn't hit Pier 4 this morning. He's waiting for us to make a move."
"He doesn't know about the safety deposit box," I added softly, clutching my leather purse. "Only Eli and I knew."
"In our world, Adriana, secrets have a way of bleeding out," Damon said grimly. He reached over, wrapping his gloved hand over mine. His grip was warm, solid, and strangely comforting amidst the high-voltage tension in the SUV. "When we step out of this car, stay close to Gabe and me. Do not stop walking until you are inside the vault."
The convoy pulled up to the grand stone steps of Boston Merchants Bank.
The massive brass doors of the bank were open, but the usual crowd of morning commuters and office workers was conspicuously absent. Damon's men had quietly posted "Closed for Private Maintenance" signs at the entrance, securing the perimeter with lethal efficiency.
"Move," Damon commanded.
The doors opened. Cold wind whipped my hair across my face as Damon and Gabe flanked me, their broad shoulders forming a human shield around my pregnant body. Four armed guards moved ahead of us, their eyes constantly sweeping the surrounding rooftops and windows.
We rushed up the granite steps and slipped into the cavernous, quiet lobby of the bank.
The high ceiling was painted with gold leaf, and marble pillars lined the floor. The bank manager—a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a suit that looked five sizes too big for his trembling frame—stood waiting near the heavy steel gates leading to the lower vaults.
"Mr... Mr. Kalas," the manager stammered, wiping sweat from his forehead despite the chilly air. "Everything is prepared as requested. Downstairs. Section Four."
"Lead the way," Damon ordered coldly.
We descended the wide stone staircase into the basement level. The air grew colder, smelling of copper, old paper, and cold steel. The vault door was a massive round piece of precision machinery, eight feet thick, standing open under bright fluorescent lights.
The manager led us into a private viewing room lined with rows of safety deposit boxes. He pulled out a heavy master key, inserted it into box number 412, and stepped back.
"Mrs. Voss," the manager said, his hands shaking. "Your key and the watch scanner, please."
I stepped forward. My heart pounded against my ribs as I pulled off Eli's watch. I pressed the rear casing against the small electronic sensor below the keyhole.
A faint green light flashed.
BEEP.
I inserted my key, turned it to the left, and heard the satisfying, heavy mechanical click of the vault locking mechanism disengaging.
I pulled the long metal box out of the wall and set it on the polished mahogany table in the center of the room.
Damon stood right beside me, his hand resting on his weapon.
I opened the lid.
Inside lay a black leather binder, a stack of certified offshore bank certificates, and a small, silver encrypted hard drive resting on velvet lining.
"There it is," I whispered, relief sweeping over me like a warm tide. "Eli’s ledger."
Damon reached out, his big fingers picking up the silver drive. "With this, we can strip Victor Marquetti of every asset he owns before the courts even open on Monday."
Before he could finish the sentence, a sudden, deafening explosion rocked the floor above us!
BOOM!
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The lights flickered and died, plunging the vault into pitch darkness. dust and plaster rained down from the ceiling as the alarm sirens began to wail, a high-pitched, screeching scream echoing through the concrete basement!
"Down!" Damon bellowed, dropping his body over mine, shoving me underneath the heavy mahogany table just as a hail of automatic gunfire shattered the glass partition wall outside the vault!
