Chapter 3 - THE 3:00 PM DEADLINE
"A Billionaire’s Last Breath."
"You are lying!" Mateo screamed at the screen, tears streaming down his face. He gripped the silver key so hard that its sharp edges cut into his palm, a tiny droplet of bright red blood staining his faded white shirt.
"Let's verify," Garza said, his face grim. He picked up his secure satellite phone and dialed a direct, private line to the Chief of Medicine at Angeles Hospital—a man who owed Garza his entire career.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.
"Garza," a panicked whisper came through the receiver. "You shouldn't be calling me. They are here. The private security team... they’ve taken over the ICU wing. They’ve ordered us to declare Don Alejandro brain-dead."
"Is he alive, Dr. Mendoza?!" Garza demanded, gripping the phone.
"Yes, but only because his heart is incredibly strong. But they have set a hard deadline. At exactly 3:00 PM, they will execute a 'medical necessity' protocol and shut down the generators for the wing. You have one hour, Garza. If the funds aren't transferred to pay the hospital's private debt by then, he is gone. And there is nothing I can do to stop them."
The line went dead.
Garza looked at the clock on the bank wall. 2:02 PM.
The digital balance on the teller’s screen was now sitting at a critical $180,000,000.
"The silver key, Mateo," Garza said, his voice urgent and raw. "We must insert it into the physical backup terminal in the vault beneath our feet. The digital network is compromised, but the physical vault has a direct, analog connection to the Central Bank. If we authorize the transfer from there, we can bypass their hack and save your grandfather."
"But the vault is locked!" Robles whimpered, pointing to the massive, three-ton steel door at the back of the lobby. "The system lockdown sealed it!"
"Then we blow the seals," Garza said, a dangerous spark in his eyes. He turned to the towering security guard. "Mendoza, go to my office. Behind the painting of the founding board, there is an emergency hydraulic manual override pump. Get it. Now!"
As the guard ran to fulfill the order, Robles’s eyes darted around the lobby. He looked at the screen, then at the gold card, and finally at Mateo’s cracked leather briefcase.
Robles’s mind was racing. If the Genesis Syndicate wins, Garza is finished. If I help the Syndicate... I could be the next Director. I could have the wealth I've always dreamed of.
Slowly, while everyone’s attention was locked on the security guard trying to override the vault doors, Robles slipped away from the counter. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his personal smartphone.
He opened an encrypted messaging app and typed a rapid message to an unknown number:
"The boy has the physical key. Garza is trying to manually override the vault. Send the extraction team now. I will ensure the boy doesn't leave this building alive."
He hit send.
A second later, a loud, explosive CLANG echoed through the lobby as the hydraulic pump began to force the massive steel vault door open, millimeter by millimeter.
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But outside, the sound of heavy, armored vehicles screeching to a halt on the streets of Polanco began to drown out the bank's alarms.
The storm had arrived.
