Chapter 6 - Inside the Town Car
Inside the climate-controlled cabin of the town car, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers sounded like a metronome counting down to disaster.
Officer Grant Heller dropped his leather briefcase onto the floor between his feet, his hands trembling slightly despite his attempts to keep them steady. He looked at Arthur Vance, who sat calm and unbothered, staring straight ahead at the driver's partition.
"You said one hundred thousand, wired to an offshore account before midnight," Heller said, his voice tight with rising panic. "My badge is suspended, internal affairs is crawling all over my precinct, and my captain just pulled my service weapon. I held up my end of the bargain. I stopped the kid, I created the distraction, and I let the courier walk."
Arthur Vance didn't turn his head. He reached out slowly, picking up a silver-plated thermos and pouring a small cup of black coffee. "You panicked, Officer Heller. You drew unnecessary attention to yourself by slamming a minor against a federal vehicle in broad daylight while tourists recorded it on their phones."
"I followed instructions!" Heller protested, leaning forward. "The kid had the father's badge wallet! You told me to recover the access key if it was in his possession!"
"I told you to observe," Vance corrected coldly, his voice dropping into a chillingly polite register. He finally turned his gaze toward Heller, his eyes as hard and lifeless as polished slate. "Instead, you created a viral spectacle that forced the federal agency to expedite their investigation by twelve hours. Because of your clumsiness, Agent Mercer has already quarantined the primary server."
Heller's face turned pale. "You're... you're not going to pay me?"
"We pay professionals, Officer Heller," Vance replied, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "Liabilities who panic and leave a trail of digital breadcrumbs are disposed of quietly."
Before Heller could react, the driver’s partition slid down with a sharp click. The driver turned around, a suppressed pistol leveled directly at Heller’s chest.
Heller gasped, throwing his hands up in instinctive terror. "Wait! Don't—I have records! I have recordings of every conversation we've had on my home computer! If anything happens to me, an automated drop sends everything to the U.S. Attorney's office!"
Arthur Vance paused, his coffee cup hovering inches from his lips. He studied Heller's terrified face for a long, agonizing moment, calculating the risk.
"Bluffing," Vance murmured, nodding slightly to the driver. "Finish it."
The driver's finger tightened on the trigger—
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CRASH.
The rear window of the town car exploded inward in a shower of glittering safety glass as the butt of a heavy tactical rifle smashed through the frame. Before the driver could swing his weapon around, a heavy hand reached through the broken window, clamped onto the back of his collar, and yanked him bodily out into the rain-slicked street.
