Chapter 7 - Inside Apex Global Solutions
Moving through the shadows like a ghost, I vaulted the perimeter fence of the Apex Global Solutions complex with the effortless grace of a soldier half my age. My shaved head absorbed the night breeze, keeping my senses razor-sharp and hyper-focused.
The rear maintenance door was protected by a biometric and digital keypad lock. I pulled a compact magnetic interface decoder from my tactical pouch, tapped into the auxiliary relay port, and bypassed the security protocol in less than thirty seconds.
Click.
The heavy steel door swung inward silently. I slipped inside, drawing my sidearm from its holster, holding it close to my chest in a low-ready position.
The building smelled of expensive leather, ozone, and faint coffee. I ascended the emergency stairwell to the third floor, my boots making zero sound against the concrete steps.
When I reached the executive floor, the hallway was dimly lit by emergency floor strips. I crept toward the double doors marked Chief Executive Officer: Arthur Sterling.
The door was slightly ajar. Warm amber light spilled out across the carpet, accompanied by the muffled sound of smooth jazz playing from an interior sound system.
I pushed the door open with the barrel of my weapon and stepped smoothly into the office.
Arthur Sterling was sitting at his massive mahogany desk, staring at a bank of three computer monitors displaying financial transfer logs, mortgage documents, and... live security camera feeds of Ryan and Linda sitting in their respective county jail holding cells.
He looked older than he had ten years ago—graying temples, sharp predatory eyes, and a smug, self-satisfied smirk etched across his face. He didn't even turn around immediately.
"You took your sweet time getting here, Ryan," Arthur said smoothly, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal glass. "I figured the moment the cops threw you in jail, you'd come crawling straight to me for bail money."
I didn't say a word. I just walked forward, my combat boots clicking sharply against the hardwood floor.
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Arthur froze. He turned his chair around slowly, expecting to see Ryan's pathetic, tear-stained face. Instead, his eyes locked onto the gleaming silver Colonel eagles on my uniform collar, my bare scalp, and the cold, unblinking barrel of my weapon pointed directly at the center of his chest.
The color vanished entirely from Arthur’s face. His crystal glass slipped from his fingers, shattering violently against the floor, spilling expensive scotch across the Persian rug.
