Chapter 14 - Over the Swiss Alps
The private Bombardier Global 7500 tore through the freezing stratosphere high above the snow-capped peaks of the Swiss Alps. Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was thick with tension as Marcus mapped out the tactical topography of Julian Thorne’s primary alpine estate—a heavily fortified medieval fortress converted into a high-tech modern stronghold near St. Moritz.
Lily sat by the reinforced cabin window, staring down at the jagged white mountains piercing through the gray cloud cover. She wore a heavy black tactical turtleneck and dark cargo trousers, her hair pulled back into a tight, practical braid.
"We’re twenty minutes out from the clandestine landing strip," Marcus announced, walking back from the cockpit with a heavy Kevlar vest and handing it to Lily. "Put this on. Once we touch down, we have zero margin for error. Thorne’s private security force is armed with heavy infantry weapons and thermal surveillance drones."
Lily took the vest, sliding it over her shoulders and buckling the heavy straps across her chest with steady hands. "Where is Victor?"
"Our intelligence feeds intercepted an encrypted radio transmission twenty minutes ago," Marcus said, his face grim. "Victor landed two hours ahead of us. He bypassed the outer perimeter checkpoints entirely, walking straight through the main gates of the fortress alone."
Lily’s heart skipped a beat. "Alone? That’s suicide!"
"That’s Victor," Marcus corrected quietly. "When someone threatens his family, he doesn't wait for backup. He becomes the storm."
Ten minutes later, the jet touched down with a sharp screech of tires on a hidden mountain airstrip cut directly into the pine forests. The biting, freezing alpine air rushed into the cabin as the loading ramp lowered.
Armed with a suppressed Sig Sauer pistol secured at her hip—a weapon Marcus had insisted she learn to handle during the past three days of intensive drills—Lily stepped out onto the snowy tarmac. The sheer majesty of the mountains was overshadowed by the looming, dark silhouette of Thorne’s fortress perched atop a sheer cliff face two miles away.
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"Let's move," Marcus commanded, signaling two armed tactical units to fall in behind them as they piled into an armored Mercedes G-Wagon.
The race against time had begun. And deep inside the stone halls of the Swiss fortress, the trap was already snapping shut around the most feared mafia boss in Chicago.
