Chapter 25 - THE TROJAN HORSE IN GREENWICHThe armored SUV raced northward along the interstate, cutting through the early morning commuter traffic with flashing emergency credentials Marco had secured through federal contacts.
Inside the vehicle, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Vince Sterling was no hired enforcer; he was a financial predator who had survived three decades in the criminal underworld by never getting his own hands dirty. If he was broadcasting from Greenwich, it meant he had infiltrated the estate's outer perimeter before Marco's electronic sweeps could flag the anomaly.
My daughter is in that house, Elena said, her voice dropping into a tone that was terrifyingly calm.
She’s safe, Roman said, though his own knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the passenger seat. Marco’s elite detail is stationed inside the perimeter. No one gets past the reinforced panic rooms without setting off every alarm on the eastern seaboard.
They didn't break in, Roman, Elena countered, turning her head to look at him with sudden, stark realization. Sterling didn't need to breach the gates. He’s been on the estate payroll for twelve years as our independent tax consultant. He has biometric clearance for the perimeter bypass codes.
Roman cursed under his breath, turning to Marco in the front seat. Call the house detail. Code Red. Lock down the internal residence immediately.
Marco tapped his satellite comms-link frantically. I'm trying, boss. The channel is jammed. We're running into a localized electronic dead zone... they've deployed a signal jammer somewhere within a half-mile radius of the property.
The SUV crested the final wooded hill leading to the Greenwich estate gates.
What they saw made Roman’s blood run cold.
The massive iron gates were standing wide open. A sleek black van—unmarked, fitted with satellite dishes on its roof—was parked squarely across the grand circular driveway near the main portico. Two men in tactical gear were standing by the open double doors of the mansion, their weapons slung over their shoulders as they calmly carried heavy metal equipment cases out of the foyer.
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Roman didn't wait for the SUV to come to a complete stop.
Before the tires had finished spinning on the gravel, Roman shoved his door open, drew his Sig Sauer, and vaulted out of the vehicle, moving with the terrifying speed of an apex predator defending its den.
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