Chapter 2 - THE MIDNIGHT DEADLINE"Give us the device, Evelyn," the lead mercenary said, his voice completely void of emotion. He pulled a silenced pistol from inside his tailored jacket. "And step away from the Mercer boy."
11:28 PM. Thirty-two minutes until midnight.
Daniel didn't flinch. Years of directing high-risk demolition zones and steel construction had trained his mind to slow down under extreme pressure. He glanced at the ceiling—specifically at the industrial-grade brass fire sprinkler heads he had personally inspected three years ago during the estate’s structural retrofit.
"Evelyn," Daniel muttered softly without moving his lips. "When I say drop, hit the deck."
"Daniel, they have guns—"
"Drop!"
Daniel reached into his heavy work vest pocket, pulled out a high-intensity lithium-ion thermal torch used for welding inspections, and snapped it on. A blinding 3,000-degree blue flame spewed forth, which he immediately aimed directly at the commercial heat-sensor mounted on the hallway wall.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Within three seconds, the central alarm roared to life. High-pressure water nozzles burst overhead, pouring hundreds of gallons of deluge fire suppression water directly onto the hallway. The sudden downpour blinded the mercenaries, soaking their expensive suits and obscuring their line of sight.
The lead gunman fired a shot, but the suppressed bullet whizzed harmlessly into the plaster ceiling. Daniel charged through the torrents of water, driving his shoulder straight into the lead mercenary’s midsection. The man hit the wet marble floor with a heavy thud, his gun sliding across the hall.
Daniel grabbed Evelyn by the wrist, pulling her toward the study door. "The key! Evelyn, move!"
He thrust the ancient, heavy gold key into the concealed mechanical keyhole hidden beneath the electronic keypad—a secondary analog lock his grandfather had installed decades ago. He turned it clockwise twice. The heavy steel bolts retracted with a loud, satisfying CLACK.
They threw themselves into the dark room and slammed the thick oak door shut, throwing the manual deadbolt just as heavy bullets thudded against the outer wood from the hallway.
They were inside the study, but they were far from safe.
The room smelled of old leather, pipe tobacco, and dust. Rain battered against the high stained-glass windows.
"Are you hit?" Daniel breathed heavily, leaning against the door as the mercenaries began hammering on the outside locks with heavy equipment.
"No," Evelyn sobbed, wiping soaked hair from her face. She looked down at her hands. The portable satellite relay was still glowing blue. "Daniel, look at the screen. The automated land-registry portal is running on Vanguard’s remote cloud server. Even if we're locked in here, the transfer script is counting down. Look."
Daniel looked at the laptop screen resting on his father's desk.
[COUNTDOWN TO PROPERTY TITLE AUTO-TRANSFER: 23 MINUTES, 14 SECONDS] [TARGET ENTITY: VANGUARD CAPITAL HOLDINGS LLC] [AUTHORIZATION CODE STATUS: PENDING FINAL DIGITAL SIGNATURE VERIFICATION]
"They don't just need the forged deed, Daniel," Evelyn said, her voice shaking violently. "They need the master property token. Your father kept an encrypted hard drive in this room. If that drive connects to the portal before midnight, the property, the land, and every subsidiary company under Mercer Development belongs to Vanguard legally, irrevocably, under foreign tax haven laws."
"Where is the drive?" Daniel demanded, turning toward his father's massive mahogany desk.
"I don't know!" Evelyn cried. "Charles searched this room for three months! He couldn't find it! That’s why he staged this fake charity gala—he brought in digital forensics experts disguised as party guests to scan the estate walls for electronic signatures!"
Daniel stopped. He looked around the room. His father had been a master architect and a man who calculated every variable. He wouldn't hide a multi-million-dollar asset in an electronic safe that could be scanned. He would hide it using the old ways.
May you like
11:38 PM. Twenty-two minutes remaining.
Outside the heavy oak door, the rhythmic sound of a portable angle-grinder began to whine. Sparks began flying under the doorframe. The mercenaries were cutting through the steel hinges.
