Chapter 16 - THE CHALET IN THE ALPSThe snow fell in thick, blinding sheets across the jagged peaks of the Bernese Oberland. Nestled deep within a steep mountain pass, a traditional Swiss chalet stood against the elements—its timber walls reinforced with steel plates, its windows shuttered behind bulletproof glass. This was Moreau’s final stronghold.
Roman’s tactical team moved through the blinding snow like ghosts, clad in white camouflage ponchos, their footsteps completely swallowed by the howling wind. Marco led the advance team toward the rear utility entrance, while Roman and Elena positioned themselves near the main observation deck overlooking the valley.
Through his thermal scope, Roman scanned the chalet's interior.
Two guards stationed on the ground floor near the communications terminal, Roman whispered into his comm-link, his breath pluming in the freezing air. Moreau is on the second floor, working the satellite uplink terminal. He’s twelve percent through the encryption transfer.
We don't have twelve minutes, let alone twelve percent, Elena replied, clicking the safety off her Beretta.
On Marco’s signal, the back door of the chalet breached with a dull, muffled thump as a C4 charge blew the reinforced hinges clean off the frame.
Chaos erupted inside the chalet. Automatic gunfire stuttered through the wooden walls, followed by shouts of alarm and the shattering of glass. Roman didn't wait; he kicked open the side reinforced door of the observation deck, storming into the second-floor hallway with his weapon raised.
A mercenary stepped out from a side room, raising a submachine gun, but Roman was faster—two precise rounds caught him dead center, dropping him instantly to the polished pine floor.
Moreau! Roman shouted, kicking open the double doors to the master study.
Moreau sat at a heavy oak desk, his fingers flying frantically across a mechanical keyboard as a progress bar on the monitor ticked toward ninety-eight percent. He whipped his head around, his face twisted in panic, reaching for a heavy revolver resting beside the terminal.
Before Moreau’s fingers could wrap around the grip, a single shot rang out from the doorway.
The bullet struck the desk an inch from Moreau’s hand, shattering the wood into splinters. Moreau froze, slowly raising his hands into the air as Elena stepped calmly into the room, her Beretta smoking slightly in the freezing mountain air.
Don't even think about it, Moreau, Elena said, her voice colder than the snow falling outside the window.
Roman strode across the room, grabbed Moreau by the collar of his tactical vest, and hauled him upright out of the chair, slamming him against the wood-paneled wall.
Cancel the transfer, Roman demanded, pressing the barrel of his sidearm against Moreau’s temple. Now.
Moreau laughed, coughing slightly as the steel bit into his skin. You’re... you’re too late, Marino. The packets are already cached on the decentralized nodes in Tokyo and Frankfurt. Even if you kill me, the keys go public in sixty seconds.
Elena didn't hesitate. She stepped up to the terminal, her fingers flying across the keys with blinding speed, bypassing Moreau’s administrator login using her father’s master cryptographic override code—a sequence the European elders had thought buried with her grandfather.
You forgot one thing, Moreau, Elena said, her eyes fixed on the screen as the progress bar slammed into reverse.
What... what did you do? Moreau stammered.
I didn't just lock the vault, Elena pressed the final execution key. I initiated a self-destruct virus that wipes every server node from Zurich to Tokyo simultaneously.
On the screen, the progress bar turned blood red, flashing SYSTEM PURGE COMPLETE.
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Moreau’s face drained of all color. You destroyed the keys? You destroyed billions in syndicate assets?
We don't need their money, Roman said, tightening his grip on Moreau’s collar before striking him hard across the jaw with the butt of his pistol, sending the enforcer crashing unconscious to the floor. We only needed our freedom.
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