Chapter 5 - A Midnight Safe In Manhattan
My body reacted before my brain could process the danger. I stepped squarely in front of Evelyn, placing myself between her and the three men at the foot of the stairs. My father had taught me never to back down when cornered, especially by men who wore suits to hide their theft.
“Step aside, Richard,” Evelyn commanded, her corporate demeanor returning with fierce intensity, though I could feel her shoulder shaking against mine. “You’re trespassing on private residential property. The estate belongs to the family trust until the probate closes.”
Richard chuckled, leaning his weight onto his walking cane. “The family trust of which I am now the court-appointed interim custodian, Evelyn. A judge in White Plains signed the emergency conservatorship order forty-five minutes ago, after your private jet failed to check in at Teterboro and you were reported missing by your domestic staff. As far as the law is concerned, you are suffering a psychological breakdown following your father’s passing, and this young man has taken advantage of your grief to steal confidential corporate files.”
He gestured to the two men beside him. They weren't corporate security guards; their scarred faces, broken noses, and bulky frames screamed organized street muscle.
“Give me the bag, Ryan,” Richard said, extending a gloved hand. “You’re a smart kid. Columbia honors graduate. Daniel would have been proud of your career. Don't throw your life away in a damp basement for a company that will never put your name on the door.”
“My name was on the door twenty years ago, Richard,” I spat back, holding the canvas strap tightly in my fist. “Before you burned down eighty acres of steel and blamed it on a man who considered you a brother.”
Richard’s polite expression vanished, replaced by an ugly, venomous sneer. “Daniel Carter was an arrogant peasant who thought he could sit at the high table because he knew how to pour concrete. He was a contractor, nothing more. My brother was weak; he let sentiment cloud his judgment. I did what was necessary to save this company from bankruptcy and turn it into the powerhouse it is today.”
“By killing my father on Route 9?” I stepped forward, my hands curling into fists.
Richard didn't deny it. He simply smiled a thin, vicious smile. “Brakes fail on icy roads in upstate New York every winter, son. It’s a tragedy. Just like the tragedy that’s about to happen here when two trespassers resist my private security detail during a burglary.”
The two men stepped forward, reaching inside their coats.
“Now, Evelyn!” I yelled.
Evelyn reached behind the packing table and slammed her palm down on the emergency fire suppression button mounted to the vault wall.
Instant chaos erupted.
High-pressure industrial Halon gas hissed violently from ceiling nozzles, filling the enclosed basement with a thick, white, suffocating fog within three seconds. The emergency sirens shrieked at deafening volume, and the strobe lights flashed in blinding pulses.
The two enforcers coughed violently, staggering back as their vision vanished in the chemical smoke.
I grabbed Evelyn’s hand and lunged forward through the white cloud. I drove my shoulder straight into the first man’s midsection, using his own forward momentum to slam him against the heavy metal shelving. Boxes of paper crashed down upon him like an avalanche.
Richard swung his heavy brass cane through the mist, the metal whistling past my ear and striking the concrete wall with a shower of sparks. Before he could recover his balance, I kicked the back of his knee, sending him crashing to his hands and knees on the cold floor.
“Run!” I shouted, pulling Evelyn past him toward the stairs.
We bounded up the spiral staircase two steps at a time, bursting into the main hallway of the dark mansion. Behind us, Richard’s voice roared through the blaring alarms: “Kill them! Don't let them reach the road!”
We didn't take the front doors. We sprinted through the kitchen, kicked open the rear pantry door, and tumbled out into the freezing Connecticut rain. Mud splashed across our clothes as we tore across the wet lawn toward the tree line.
Headlights suddenly swept across the driveway. A second black SUV was barreling up the main lane, blocking the pedestrian gate.
“This way!” Evelyn cried, pulling me toward a narrow service trail that led down through the woods toward the neighboring property.
Branches whipped across our faces, tearing at our clothes as we sprinted through the pitch-black forest. Behind us, the sound of shouting men and slamming car doors echoed through the trees, but we didn't stop running until we hit the asphalt of the old country road a quarter-mile south.
Frank’s old Ford pickup sat exactly where we had left it, dark and silent under the dripping pines.
May you like
I unlocked the doors, threw the duffel bag onto the floorboard, and turned the key. The starter sputtered once, twice, and then the big V8 engine roared to life.
I stomped on the gas, spinning the tires in the wet gravel, and launched the truck back onto the highway just as the headlights of Richard’s SUV crested the hill behind us.
