Chapter 7 - The Zurich Decoy
The private Gulfstream jet cut through the stratosphere at six hundred miles per hour, heading east across the Atlantic toward Switzerland. Inside the luxurious cabin, the mood was tense enough to snap a steel cable.
Claire sat across from Gabriel at the polished mahogany table, staring at her brother’s face displayed on the encrypted laptop screen via a secure satellite video feed. Leo looked older, his face shadowed by a thick beard and dark circles under his eyes, but it was undeniably him.
“You shouldn't have brought her into this, Gabriel,” Leo said through the tinny speakers, shaking his head. “The syndicate—The Janus Consortium—they aren't a corporate rival. They’re a shadow cabal of intelligence operatives and tech magnates who control half the global banking infrastructure. If they know Claire is linked to me, she’s a target.”
“She was already a target the moment they wiped our family's accounts five years ago,” Claire retorted, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and overwhelming relief. “You let them think you were dead, Leo! You left me to pick up the pieces while you played ghost!”
“I didn't have a choice!” Leo shot back, his voice rising in frustration. “The night I discovered they were weaponizing our security architecture for corporate assassinations, they planted evidence framing me for treason. I had to fake my death or end up at the bottom of the Hudson like my predecessor.”
Gabriel reached out, placing a heavy, calm hand over Claire’s clenched fists on the table. The warmth of his touch grounded her, cutting through the emotional storm.
“We don't look backward, Leo. We finish this,” Gabriel said coldly. “We land in Zurich in two hours. The Consortium expects us to hit their primary server node in the financial district. That’s why we’re sending a decoy team.”
Claire looked up at Gabriel, her analytical instincts kicking back in. “A decoy? If they expect us in Zurich, where are we actually going?”
A dangerous, predatory smile touched Gabriel’s lips. “Geneva. Their real physical cold-storage vault is buried four hundred feet beneath Lake Geneva in an old Cold War bunker. And we’re going to drop in through the ventilation shaft.”
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Leo’s eyes widened on the screen. “Are you out of your mind? That bunker is guarded by private military contractors with surface-to-air defense systems!”
“Which is why,” Gabriel said, standing up and pulling a sleek tactical harness over his broad shoulders, “we’re going to give them a very expensive distraction in Zurich, while you and I, Claire, take a very cold swim.”
