Chapter 11 - The Counter-Strike
Before Richter could pull his hand from his pocket, I closed the distance between us in two explosive strides, driving the butt of my sidearm down toward his wrist.
The metal device he was holding flew across the concrete floor, shattering against a steel filing cabinet. Richter countered with a brutal, lightning-fast sweep kick that caught me off balance, sending me crashing hard into a stack of empty storage crates.
He didn't try to fight; he turned and bolted toward the secondary service tunnel at the back of the vault.
“Vance, he’s heading for the drainage exit!” I shouted into my lapel mic, scrambling back to my feet despite the sharp ache in my ribs.
“Already on it, Boss!” Vance’s voice crackled back over the radio. “We’ve got the drainage corridor sealed with a tactical team. He’s running right into a dead end.”
I sprinted down the narrow metal catwalk after him, rounding the corner just in time to see Richter slammed hard against the concrete wall by Vance and two of my senior security officers. The titanium briefcase he had been carrying snapped open, spilling hundreds of micro-SD cards and encrypted data drives across the floor.
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Richter spat a drop of blood onto the concrete, offering a grim, blood-stained grin as the steel cuffs clicked around his wrists.
“You caught the messenger, Mr. Vance,” Richter wheezed, his eyes burning with fanatical loyalty. “But the signal was already sent to Zurich three minutes ago. The global consolidation protocol has begun.”
