Chapter 20
The red LED light on the satellite terminal shifted from a steady pulse to a rapid, blinking crimson flash.
Viktor froze halfway across the Persian rug, his hand hovering over his holster as his eyes darted from the device back to Caroline. Richard’s face drained of color, his polished corporate composure shattering into a mask of pure, unadulterated panic. He surged out of his executive chair, slamming both hands down on the mahogany desk.
"You're bluffing!" Richard roared, his voice cracking with sudden fury as he lunged around the desk toward her. "There's no live feed! The signal couldn't penetrate these reinforced glass walls!"
"Test it," Caroline challenged quietly, not taking a single step back as Richard towered over her. She tilted her head toward the small speaker grille on the side of the terminal. "Go ahead, Richard. Tell your security chief to finish what you started three years ago. Tell him how you instructed him to jam the deadbolt from the service stairs while Juliette poured the accelerant on the hallway rug. Let the grand jury hear the master plan straight from the architect's mouth."
Viktor’s hand finally cleared his holster, a black semi-automatic pistol with a suppressor gleaming under the harsh desk lamp. He raised the barrel directly toward Caroline's chest, his face twisted in a cold, brutal snarl. "End of conversation, bitch."
Before Viktor’s finger could apply pressure to the trigger, the heavy double doors of the private penthouse elevator burst open with a deafening crash.
"FEDERAL MARSHALS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
Marcus Vance stormed out of the elevator, followed by half a dozen heavily armed tactical operatives in ballistic vests and helmets, their assault rifles instantly trained on Viktor and Richard.
Viktor hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting between the armed federal agents and Caroline. It was all the time Marcus needed. With a sharp crack, Marcus’s service pistol discharged once, the bullet striking Viktor’s weapon hand with pinpoint accuracy. The pistol flew from Viktor’s grasp, clattering uselessly against the polished hardwood floor.
Before Viktor could lunge for a secondary blade, two tactical operatives slammed him face-first onto the Persian rug, securing heavy steel cuffs around his wrists with practiced efficiency.
Richard stood frozen beside his desk, his hands raised instinctively in the air, his mouth moving silently as the realization of total, inescapable defeat washed over him.
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Marcus walked past the subdued security chief, stepping up to Caroline. He glanced down at the satellite terminal blinking brightly on the desk, then looked back at her with a mixture of professional awe and profound respect.
"Well, Miss Mercer," Marcus said quietly, his voice carrying clearly across the silent penthouse. "It looks like your closing argument was a massive success."
