PART 5: Unmasking the Mastermind
PART 5: Unmasking the Mastermind
Captured enemies reveal high-level corporate treason.
Ten minutes later, the wounded intruders were dragged down to the subterranean holding room—a soundproof, windowless chamber where secrets were extracted with cold, efficient brutality.
I stood under the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescent bulb, looking down at the lead operative who was clutching a bleeding shoulder while strapped securely to a heavy iron chair.
Vance stood beside him, holding a heavy tactical knife that gleamed under the light.
"Who sent you?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm. "The Genovese family? Or was it the shipping consortium trying to muscle in on my dock contracts?"
The operative spat a glob of blood onto the concrete floor, sneering up at me through clenched teeth.
"Go to hell, Hale," the man wheezed. "You think you rule Chicago? You’re slipping. You’ve got maids and kids wandering your halls like it’s a daycare. You’re losing your edge."
I didn't blink.
I gestured slightly with two fingers.
Vance stepped forward, pressing the flat of his tactical knife casually against the man’s uninjured collarbone.
"My edge is just fine," I replied softly. "And you’ve got about ten seconds to decide whether you want to spend the rest of your natural life in a federal penitentiary or die right here in this chair. Who gave you the blueprint to my east wing security sensors?"
The man’s bravado finally fractured under the absolute, suffocating terror of my reputation.
His eyes darted wildly, realizing nobody was coming to rescue him.
"It... it wasn't a syndicate!" the operative choked out, tears of pain mingling with sweat on his face. "It was a corporate auditor! A man named Victor Sterling! He paid us fifty thousand dollars to map your security blind spots so he could steal your shipping ledgers from your private safe!"
My jaw tightened so hard my teeth ached.
Victor Sterling.
The chief financial officer of my primary logistics subsidiary—a man I had personally pulled out of corporate bankruptcy five years ago and trusted with the keys to my secondary financial accounts.
Greed had made him blind.
He thought my grief made me vulnerable.
"Vance," I ordered, stepping back from the chair.
"Boss?"
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"Pull together a strike team. Pay a visit to Mr. Sterling’s penthouse tonight. Remind him what happens when employees try to rob their boss."
"Consider it done," Vance grinned darkly, holstering his knife.
