Chapter 10 - The Digital Ghost
I drew my sidearm, keeping low against the corrugated iron wall, and eased my way toward the open vault door.
Inside, the room was a maze of ancient steel filing cabinets and modern server racks humming with stolen electricity. Standing before the master terminal was a tall man in a tailored charcoal suit—completely out of place in the grimy sub-basement. He had a fiber-optic data cable plugged directly into the hotel’s core mainframes, downloading the encrypted files Cynthia and Vanessa had left behind.
“I wouldn't touch that enter key if I were you,” I said, stepping into the doorway with my weapon leveled at his center mass.
The man didn't flinch. He didn't drop his hands. He slowly turned around, adjusting a pair of thin-rimmed titanium glasses. It wasn't a low-level thug; it was Richter, the corporate fixer from Zurich whose network had just been battered by Conrad and the international task force.
“Mr. Vance,” Richter smiled, his voice dangerously polite. “I must admit, your reputation precedes you. Former federal investigator turned hotel guardian. Quite a step down from tracking international cartels.”
“You’re trespassing on private property, Richter,” I said, stepping further into the vault, my footing secure. “And your data-siphoning operation just triggered a felony wiretap charge across three state lines.”
Richter chuckled softly, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. “Property? Mr. Vance, this entire hotel, this financial district, and the very air your daughter breathes are built on foundations leased by the syndicate. Cynthia and Vanessa were mere disposable pawns. The real prize is the archive Elena Whitmore spent a decade compiling before her ‘accident’.”
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“She’s alive, and she’s taking it all back,” I retorted.
“Is she?” Richter raised an eyebrow, pressing a small silver button on his cuff link. “Let’s see how long she survives when the asset liquidity backing the Whitmore empire vanishes by midnight.”
