Chapter 6 - Descending into the DarkThe cellar door was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of yellow light cutting across the basement stairs. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
My father led the way, his rifle held high, stepping lightly over the creaking wooden steps. Agent Miller flanked him on the left, while I stayed directly behind them, clutching a heavy iron fireplace poker I had grabbed in the hallway.
As we reached the bottom of the stairs, the cool, damp smell of our fruit cellar was overwhelmed by the sharp scent of expensive cologne.
Tied back-to-back to old wooden support beams were Celeste and our two children, their mouths taped shut with gray duct tape. Their eyes widened in terror as they saw us, muffled whimpers escaping through the fabric.
And standing right in front of them, holding a small, silver thumb drive up to the dim overhead bulb, was a man in an immaculate charcoal suit.
He turned slowly, a calm, chilling smile playing across his lips.
"Raymond," the man said smoothly, as if greeting an old friend at a cocktail party. "I must admit, your dramatics at the cemetery were quite impressive. Too bad your son lacks your talent for staying hidden."
My father lowered his rifle slightly, but his finger remained tight on the trigger. His face had gone completely rigid.
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"Vance," Raymond muttered, the name dripping with decades of pure venom. "I thought the agency put you away for good in twenty-fourteen."
"Prisons are just concrete boxes, Raymond. Ideas—and billions of embezzled federal dollars—are bulletproof," Arthur Vance replied, stepping closer to Celeste. He casually tapped the silver thumb drive against his chin. "And this little piece of digital history contains every single name of every corrupt official, judge, and senator who funded your little black-ops retirement fund. Hand over the rest of the encryption keys, and maybe—just maybe—I'll let your daughter-in-law unwrap her children before morning."
