Chapter 8 - The Fall of the Empire
"Federal Police! Nobody move! Hands on your heads!"
The shouting echoed through the smoky expanse of the warehouse as a dozen heavily armed tactical officers from Prosecutor Delgado’s special unit poured through the shattered entrance, their rifle lights cutting through the thick smoke.
The three operators around Vance didn't hesitate. Trained as mercenaries, they opened fire immediately, automatic weapons chattering in a chaotic wall of sound that shattered the glass windows along the upper walls.
"Down, Evelyn!" I screamed, dropping flat onto the metal catwalk and firing three quick shots down at the lead mercenary who was turning his rifle toward the entrance.
My first shot struck his shoulder; the second caught him in the chest, sending him crashing into a wooden crate.
Vance didn't stay to fight. The moment the flashbang exploded, he grabbed his briefcase, turned his back on Evelyn, and sprinted toward a small side door that led out onto the pier's dark docks.
"Weber! He's heading for the docks!" I yelled into my radio, springing up from the catwalk and charging down the iron stairs toward the floor.
Evelyn was screaming, ducking her head between her knees as bullets whizzed through the air above her steel chair. I reached her in three bounds, pulling a tactical knife from my belt and slicing through the heavy nylon ropes binding her wrists.
"Get under the metal container! Move!" I pulled her to her feet, shoving her toward the safety of an overturned steel cargo box.
Evelyn grabbed my sleeve, her fingers trembling violently, her eyes wide with terror and something that looked shockingly like remorse. "Elena... I... I'm sorry..."
"Save it for the judge, Evelyn," I snapped, wrenching my arm free. "Stay down!"
I didn't wait for her reply. I sprinted past the gunfire, ducking through the side door Vance had used, plunging out into the blinding rain on the open dock.
Fifty yards ahead of me, Vance was running toward a dark speedboat tied to the pier's edge. He had already tossed his briefcase into the vessel and was reaching down to cast off the thick mooring line.
"Vance!" I shouted over the sound of the waves and the storm.
He spun around, pulling his suppressed pistol from his coat.
We both fired at the same instant.
His bullet whistled past my ear, tearing through the collar of my navy blazer. My shot caught him squarely in the knee.
Vance let out a sharp cry of pain, his leg buckling beneath him as he collapsed backward onto the slick, wet wooden planks of the pier, his gun skidding out of his hand and falling into the dark churning sea below.
I walked up to him slowly, keeping my Walther PPK pointed straight at his chest.
Vance lay on his back, gasping for breath, clutching his bleeding knee, his pristine dark coat ruined by salt water and blood. He looked up at me, his teeth gritted in agony.
"You... you ruined... everything," he spat through his teeth.
"You ruined yourself the day you thought you could use Frank's name to wash your dirty money," I said coldly, reaching down and picking up his leather briefcase from the deck of the speedboat.
Inspector Weber came running down the pier, his gun drawn, his face flushed red from the sprint. He stopped beside me, looking down at Vance, then back at me.
"Federal team has secured the warehouse," Weber panted, wiping rain from his eyes. "Evelyn Carter is in custody. Delgado's officers are calling an ambulance for her injuries."
"Take him," I said, gesturing toward Vance with my barrel. "The briefcase contains the physical ledger of every Vanderbilt & Sachs shell company operating in North America."
Weber looked at the leather briefcase in my hand, then at the silver flash drive I still held tight in my fingers. "And the key to the forty million euros?"
I looked out over the railing of the pier, down at the dark, bottomless waters of the Atlantic ocean crashing against the stone breakwater. Without a word, I tossed the tiny silver drive into the sea. It disappeared into the dark waves in less than a second.
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Weber gasped. "Elena! That was forty million euros!"
"It was blood money, Weber," I said softy, turning my back on Vance and walking away down the dock. "Frank didn't want it. I don't want it. Let it stay at the bottom of the ocean where it belongs."
