Chapter 7 - THE TRIBUNAL OF SHADOWSThe air inside the cramped vault grew thick and stale. The four-inch gap held open by Vance's crushing leather briefcase was our only lifeline, and outside stood Victor Vale with a squad of mercenaries.
"You have thirty seconds, Lena," Victor’s voice drifted through the gap, smooth and merciless. "Give me the drive, and I promise your death will be quick. Refuse, and I will have my men find the armored van sitting in the parking garage... and little Eli will join his father before midnight."
My blood ran cold. Eli. He knew about Katya’s van.
Vance looked at me, panic etched deep into his wrinkled face. "Lena... we can't let him get the drive, but we can't let him hurt Eli."
I looked down at the black hard drive in my hands. Then, I looked at the letter Daniel had written to me. Burn it all.
"Victor!" I shouted toward the narrow gap. "I will give you the drive! But you have to let Arthur Vance walk away!"
"Agreed," Victor replied smoothly. "Slide the drive through the opening."
"Lena, no!" Vance whispered furiously. "If you give it to him, he’ll kill us both anyway!"
"Trust me, Arthur," I whispered back, my eyes burning with a fierce, terrifying calm.
I reached into my pocket, pretending to grab the hard drive. Instead, I pulled out the small silver micro-camera and audio transmitter Katya had given me earlier. I quickly snapped the transmitter into the data port of the black hard drive.
Then, I slid the hard drive across the floor, through the six-inch gap under the heavy vault door.
Outside, I heard Victor pick up the drive. "Ah... Daniel's brilliant mind, captured on a piece of silicon. What a waste of potential."
"Now let us out!" I demanded.
"I lied," Victor said cold-bloodedly. "Seal the door. Pry the briefcase out."
Outside, two mercenaries jammed crowbars under the titanium door, forcing Vance's crushed briefcase out. The heavy five-ton vault door slammed shut with a deafening CLANG, trapping us in total darkness.
The air filtration system clicked off. Silence descended.
"We're trapped," Vance said, his voice trembling in the dark. "We have less than two hours of oxygen."
I pulled out my phone. The screen illuminated our faces.
"We're not trapped, Arthur," I smiled sinisterly. "Katya, are you receiving the feed?"
Through my ear cuff, Katya's laughter crackled through static. "Crystal clear, Lena. The second Victor touched that drive, the transmitter auto-synced with my satellite rig. I just broadcasted Victor Vale's live location, his unredacted voice confession, and the Obsidian Group file to the FBI, Interpol, and the United States Department of Defense."
Vance gasped in awe. "You... you tricked him into triggering the broadcast himself!"
"Daniel taught me that the proudest men are the easiest to fool," I said. "Now... Katya, how do we get out of this vault?"
"Look at the ceiling panel directly above the safety deposit box," Katya instructed. "Daniel didn't just rent a box. He bought the entire vault unit three years ago and installed an emergency extraction hatch connected to the building's ventilation grid."
Vance and I scrambled onto the stainless steel counters. We pushed open the ceiling panel, revealing a hidden crawlspace illuminated by green emergency lights.
We climbed up into the ventilation shaft just as the sound of distant sirens began echoing through the streets above—hundreds of police cruisers, federal emergency vehicles, and military choppers converging on the Swiss Consulate.
Twenty minutes later, Vance and I dropped down into the alleyway behind the Consulate. Rain was pouring down in sheets.
Waiting for us in the alley was Katya's black van.
The rear doors flew open. Eli was sitting inside, safe and unharmed, eating a juice box.
"Mommy!" he cried, reaching out his arms.
I threw myself into the van, wrapping my arms around my son and sobbing uncontrollably. "I've got you, baby. I've got you."
Katya pointed through the rain toward the front of the Consulate.
Surrounding the building were fifty federal vehicles with flashing red and blue lights. Swat teams were pouring into the building.
And being led out of the front entrance in heavy iron handcuffs were Marjorie Vale, Grant Vale, and Victor Vale.
Marjorie was weeping hysterically, her black funeral dress soaked in rain, as federal agents pushed her into the back of an armored van. Grant looked completely broken, his bloody face hanging low.
Victor Vale, however, walked with his head held high. As he reached the police transport, he turned his head toward the dark alley where our van was parked.
Even from a hundred yards away, through the torrential rain, his cold blue eyes found mine.
He didn't look defeated. He smiled—a sickening, terrifying grin.
He raised his gloved hand and tapped his ear cuff.
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Katya's comms system suddenly burst into high-frequency static. A digitized voice echoed directly into my ear cuff:
"Did you really think Victor was the head of the Obsidian Group, Lena? Victor was just an employee. And now that you broadcasted our files to the world... you've marked your son as target number one."
