Chapter 2 - The Service Corridor Descent
The breath caught in Mason’s throat,
his face draining of color as the surrounding socialites clapped to the rhythm of the violins.
To the glittering crowd on the dance floor,
we looked like old friends embracing warmly.
To the armed guards advancing behind Mason,
we looked like executioners in custom-tailored Tom Ford.
“Don’t do it,
Adrian,
” Mason whispered,
sweat beading along his hairline.
“Patrick will level every asset you own before sunrise.
”
“Patrick Sloan is a butcher who deals in poison,
Mason,
” I replied softly,
pressing the barrel deeper into his ribcage.
“And you just became his most expensive casualty.
”
“Shoot him and you’ll never find the offshore keys,
” Mason hissed,
a desperate gambler’s glint in his eyes.
“Clara already backed them up to an encrypted node in Zurich three hours ago,
” I lied with absolute conviction,
though I hadn't the faintest idea what Clara had done until this exact second.
Clara didn't blink an eye.
She reached into her small velvet clutch,
retrieved a sleek silver thumb drive,
and tapped it against Mason’s cheek with mocking gentleness.
“Every single routing number,
Mason,
” she said sweetly.
“From the Delaware shell companies to the Swiss holding accounts where you parked the four point seven million.
”
Mason stared at the thumb drive as if it were a venomous viper.
“You bitch,
” he hissed.
“I’m an accountant,
Mason,
” Clara corrected,
her smile widening into something lethal.
“We balance books,
and sometimes,
we balance accounts.
”
“Move,
” I ordered,
cocking the hammer of the Sig Sauer with a sharp,
metallic click that echoed beneath the din of the string quartet.
“Lead us to the service corridor.
”
Mason swallowed hard,
his eyes darting frantically toward his guards.
“Stand down!” he barked at them.
“If I drop,
the entire sector goes dark!”
The guards hesitated,
their hands hovering nervously over their submachine guns hidden inside violin cases.
Clara slipped her hand into mine,
her fingers surprisingly warm against my palm despite the mortal peril hanging in the air.
“They won't fire while we have their commander as our shield,
” she whispered to me.
“And even if they do,
Mason values his own skin far more than Patrick Sloan’s approval.
”
We backed slowly toward the heavy oak service doors half-concealed behind velvet drapery.
The music swelled to its dramatic finale,
masking the squeak of hinges as Clara kicked the door open with the heel of her stiletto.
We vanished into the dim,
concrete labyrinth of the back corridors just as the first bullets shredded the drapery behind us.
“Down!” I yelled,
hauling Clara against my chest as we tumbled down a steel-reinforced concrete staircase.
Footsteps pounded on the metal steps above us.
“They’re pursuing,
” Clara gasped,
adjusting her glasses with a steady hand.
“How many?”
“At least four,
heavily armed,
wearing tactical ceramic plates.
”
“Can you override the bulkhead doors at the bottom of the stairwell?”
“Already did,
” she replied,
tapping her encrypted tablet with her thumb.
May you like
A heavy hydraulic hiss echoed through the stairwell as the massive blast door slammed shut beneath us,
locking with a definitive thud that vibrated through the foundation of the Alden House.
