Chapter 7 - The Smoking Gun
Files cascaded down the monitor in a cascading waterfall of green text—bank transfers, shell corporation titles, offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands, and wire receipts signed by Arthur Vance himself.
"Mother of God," Viktor whispered, leaning over the desk. "It’s all here. Every bribe paid to the district attorney, every smuggled cargo manifest from the past twenty years."
Before anyone could celebrate, the terminal screen flickered again. A red warning banner flashed across the display, accompanied by a sharp audio alarm.
Warning: External trace detected. Node origin: Municipal Bank of San Marcos.
Gabriel’s face hardened instantly. "Vance’s cyber team. They intercepted the handshake protocol the second we decrypted the drive. They know exactly where this terminal is communicating from."
"How long before they trace our precise GPS coordinates?" Viktor asked sharply, his hand dropping to his holster.
"Less than ten minutes," Gabriel replied, slamming his hand onto the desk. "Viktor, get the armored transport ready. We’re evacuating the estate immediately. Vance is going to throw every asset he has at us before noon."
Julian looked at the monitor, watching the data transfer complete its final percentage. "Can we copy it?"
"It's already backed up to three secure offshore servers," Gabriel said, ripping the micro-drive from the port and handing it to Julian. "Keep this around your neck, boy. It’s worth more than all the gold in this city. If anything happens to me, you take it straight to Federal Prosecutor Miller."
May you like
Before Viktor could reach the door, the estate’s exterior security klaxons began to wail—a deafening, piercing shriek that signaled a full-scale perimeter breach.
Through the bulletproof windows of the study, they saw a convoy of three black armored tactical vans crashing through the front security gates, their sirens screaming into the morning air.
