Chapter 5 - The Shadow Operative
Marcello held his breath, his hands slowly rising to shoulder height. He could feel the precise weight and cold metal of a suppressed firearm pressed against his spine.
"Set the flashlight on the floor, slow and easy," the man behind him commanded.
Marcello carefully lowered himself and set the flashlight on the carpet, keeping his movements smooth. "You're working for Arthur," Marcello said quietly. "The security breach... you cut the main power grid from the basement."
"You're smart," the guard grunted. "Too smart for your own good. Now step into the room."
The guard shoved Marcello forward into the executive library. The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them, locking with a sharp electronic click.
Arthur turned around from the open vault, holding a heavy steel briefcase, his face turning pale when he saw Marcello. "Marcello Vance. I should have known you'd stick your nose into this."
Julianna shrank back against the desk, clutching her wrap around her shoulders. "Arthur, what do we do with him? Victor is already searching the house!"
"Victor doesn't know anything yet," Arthur said, his tone turning icy and ruthless. "He thinks this is just a family scandal about a fake pregnancy. He has no idea that every dollar in the Vance Logistics reserve has already been transferred to our Zurich accounts."
"Your plan failed the moment my three-year-old niece looked at her," Marcello said, stepping slightly to the side to angle himself away from the guard's barrel. "A child saw what dozens of wealthy adults were too blind to notice."
Arthur let out a bitter, dry laugh. "A minor setback. The wire transfers are complete. In ten minutes, a helicopter lands on the south lawn, and Julianna and I vanish."
Arthur looked at the armed guard. "Eliminate him. Make it look like he got caught in the blackout and fell down the secondary stairs."
"With pleasure," the guard growled, raising the weapon toward Marcello’s chest.
Before the guard could pull the trigger, the library door shuddered under a massive, concussive thud.
BOOM!
The heavy oak lock shattered into pieces, and the doors flew inward. Victor Vance charged into the room, flanked by three armed estate security officers carrying tactical flashlights.
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"Drop your weapons!" Victor roared, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.
The distraction was all Marcello needed. He spun on his heel, grabbed the guard's wrist, and twisted it violently downward. The gun discharged harmlessly into the floorboards as Marcello delivered a sharp elbow strike to the guard's jaw, sending him crashing onto the oriental rug.
