Chapter 16 - The Final Upload— Don't move an inch! a cold, automated voice echoed from the shadows of the server room.
Stepping out from behind the central mainframe console was Viktor Vance—not the director who had died in New York, but his ruthless younger brother, Viktor, who had managed the European black-ops division of the syndicate.
In his hand, he held a dead man’s switch connected to a high-explosive charge wired directly to the main cooling tanks.
— Welcome to the end of the line, Carranza, Viktor sneered, his finger resting lightly on the trigger of the detonator. — You thought you could dismantle five years of global operations with a single microchip? One click of this switch, and this entire server farm—and everyone in it—joins Arthur Vargas at the bottom of the lake.
Matthew slowly raised his hands, but his fingers hovered near his concealed shoulder holster with lethal precision.
— You’re too late, Viktor, Matthew said calmly, his voice echoing smoothly across the concrete floor. — Look at the secondary terminal behind you.
Viktor frowned, glancing back over his shoulder.
On the massive master display screen, the upload progress bar was already at 99%.
— What?! Viktor roared, his face twisting in sudden, unadulterated panic. — Who bypassed the firewall?!
Elena stepped out from behind Matthew, holding the open gold pocket watch in her palm. Her eyes were as cold and sharp as alpine ice.
— My father programmed a failsafe into every single machine he ever built, Elena said, her voice ringing with absolute authority. — You can't delete what was already written into the foundation.
— Bitch! Viktor shrieked, lifting his weapon to fire straight at Elena.
Matthew moved with blinding, inhuman speed. He drew his firearm and fired a single round before Viktor could pull his trigger. The bullet struck Viktor square in the chest, knocking him backward against the central console.
The dead man’s switch slipped from his hand, clattering harmlessly onto the rubber matting without detonating.
Upload Complete. System Purged.
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A loud, harmonious chime echoed through the subterranean chamber. Across thousands of international screens from Zurich to New York, the syndicate's financial accounts were instantly frozen, flagged, and transmitted directly to Interpol headquarters.
The war was over.
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