Chapter 14 - OPERATION TROJAN HORSETitle: Into the Lion’s Den: The Plan to Trap the Global Syndicate
The private jet touched down on a private airstrip shrouded in the foggy, pine-scented mist of Bar Harbor, Maine.
Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Daisy wore a sleek, dark trench coat over a professional business-casual outfit, looking every bit the corporate auditor rather than a mob boss's wife. Across from her, Aleandro methodically checked the magazine of a suppressed compact pistol, slipping it into a concealed holster beneath his tailored wool coat.
"This is madness," Salvatore muttered from the cockpit jump seat. "Walking straight into the Consortium’s private mainland summit. If they realize we're walking into a trap—"
"They won't realize anything," Daisy interrupted calmly, tapping the screen of her tablet. "Because they think we're bringing the original hard drives to negotiate a buyout. They think we're greedy. Greed makes people blind."
Forty-five minutes later, their black armored town car rolled through the iron gates of a sprawling, cliffside glass mansion overlooking the crashing waves of the Atlantic. This was the operational headquarters of the Consortium.
Armed guards in discreet gray suits checked their credentials at the heavy glass double doors, their hands hovering near their holsters.
"Mr. Dantis," a smooth, cultured voice echoed from the grand foyer.
Descending the floating glass staircase was Victor Vance—not the Governor, but his older brother, Arthur Vance, senior partner of Vance International and the undisputed head of the Consortium. He wore a pristine charcoal suit, his silver hair combed back, a cold, predatory smile playing across his lips.
"Aleandro. And... Ah, the famous Miss Harper. I must admit, we didn't expect a veterinarian to dismantle a thirty-billion-dollar global syndicate with a public Wi-Fi connection."
"People underestimate women who care about animals, Mr. Vance," Daisy said smoothly, walking right past him and setting a sleek, black encrypted hard drive squarely in the middle of a minimalist glass conference table. "It's a fatal flaw."
Arthur Vance chuckled, walking over to the table and picking up the drive. "You brought the original files. How remarkably cooperative."
"We're reasonable people," Aleandro said, his voice dropping into a chilling register as he stepped up beside Daisy, his dark eyes locked onto Vance. "We hand over the data. You call off your hit squads. Permanent truce."
Arthur Vance smiled coldly, slipping the drive into his pocket. "A charming proposal, Aleandro. Truly. There's just one tiny problem..."
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He raised two fingers. Instantly, a dozen armed mercenaries stepped out from the hidden alcoves around the room, their assault rifles leveling directly at Aleandro and Daisy.
"In our line of work," Vance sneered, "we don't do truces. We do burials."
