Chapter 10 - The Confession on the Tarmac
Sal Moretti writhed against the cold concrete, his expensive leather jacket scuffed and stained with oil. The arrogant heir who had ruled the Seattle underworld from behind a desk was completely broken, staring up at Declan with wide, terrified eyes.
“I’ll tell you everything!” Sal choked out, coughing up a small amount of blood. “The primary offshore servers aren’t in Zurich. They’re hosted through a shell company registered in Panama, but the physical hard drives—the master keys that control every single shadow account—are locked inside a safety deposit box at the First National Bank in downtown Seattle.”
Declan pressed the cold barrel of his pistol against Sal’s temple. “And the combination?”
“It’s... it’s 04-19-88,” Sal gasped rapidly. “The day my father took over the syndicate docks! I swear to God, Declan, that’s all of it! Please don't kill me—the feds are already tracking this hangar, they’ll be here in five minutes!”
Declan didn't blink. He reached down, unclipped Sal’s encrypted satellite phone from his belt, and pocketed it. Then, with a swift movement of his boot, he kicked Sal firmly in the ribs, knocking the syndicate heir out cold.
He turned around and looked toward the open hangar doors. In the distance, the flashing red and blue lights of federal police cruisers were beginning to illuminate the perimeter access road. Mateo was right—the authorities were closing in, tipped off by the anonymous digital distress signal Declan had sent right before entering the property.
Declan didn't hesitate. He climbed into the cockpit of the idling Gulfstream, his fingers flying across the avionics control panel. He didn't need to fly the plane; he just needed to execute the final security protocol. He accessed the onboard communication system, linked it directly to the Department of Justice secure server, and uploaded Sal Moretti’s encrypted confession file along with the coordinates of the Panama servers.
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Within seconds, the main banking computers would automatically freeze every remaining offshore asset belonging to the Moretti family, wiping their criminal empire out of existence in less than sixty seconds.
Declan slipped out of the cockpit, dropped down from the loading ramp, and melted back into the shadows just as the first federal tactical vehicle smashed through the chain-link perimeter fence, sirens wailing into the night.
