Chapter 12 - The Ghost in the WireBefore Marco’s finger could pull the trigger, the grand mahogany desk between us let out a high-pitched electronic beep.
Bip. Bip. Bip.
The hidden emergency console beneath the center drawer—a failsafe system my father had installed before his murder—suddenly flared to life. The overhead security grid, which Marco thought he had completely disabled, flashed brilliant crimson.
Marco’s eyes darted toward the console in sudden panic. "What did you do?"
"My father taught me one rule before my mother poisoned him," I said, my lips curling into a lethal, mocking smile. "Never trust an enforcer who spends more time looking at your bank accounts than your enemies."
With a sudden, violent motion, I slammed my fist down onto the primary override button.
WHOOSH.
Thick, heavy steel blast shutters dropped instantly over the floor-to-ceiling windows, sealing the room off from the outside world. Simultaneously, the recessed ceiling vents hissed, releasing a thick, odorless cloud of military-grade paralytic gas—a custom compound designed to drop an armored rhino in ten seconds flat.
"Gas! Mask up! Put on your masks!" Marco screamed, coughing violently as he stumbled back, raising his pistol to fire blindly.
Bang! Bang!
Bullets shattered the oak paneling inches from my head, but the heavy tactical gear of the Marseille operatives became their undoing; as they scrambled to pull gas masks from their tactical belts, the high-density aerosol invaded their systems.
Three of the mercenaries dropped to their knees, their heavy assault rifles clattering uselessly against the Persian rug.
Marco coughed, his vision blurring, his face twisting in rage as he tried to aim his weapon directly at my forehead. "I'll... I'll kill you myself..."
"You're out of time, Marco," I whispered, stepping forward through the thickening white fog, drawing my custom Beretta and pressing the barrel flat against his chest before he could pull the trigger.
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Click.
I didn't shoot him. Instead, I struck him across the temple with the heavy butt of my gun, sending him crashing hard into the marble hearth. He went completely limp, blood pooling on the white stone.
