Chapter 11 - Shattered Alliances
The wailing sirens painted the interior corridors of Sterling Manor in alternating flashes of emergency crimson and shadow.
Arthur Bradley bolted down the second-floor hallway, clutching a leather briefcase packed with bearer bonds and off-shore account passcodes. The automated security protocol had tripped on the lower levels, but the central computer terminal was completely locked, refusing all master overrides.
""Marianne! The servers are corrupted!"" Bradley shouted, bursting into the master study where Marianne stood behind her massive ebony desk. ""Someone bypassed the external firewall from an internal node! Our offshore holdings are being frozen by the federal depository!""
Marianne didn't move. She held a pearl-handled revolver in her right hand, resting it flat on the mahogany wood. ""Where is the baby?""
""He's secured in the panic room on the fourth floor,"" Bradley stammered, sweating profusely. ""Forget the trust, Marianne! We need to take the helicopter now! If the feds execute a freeze, they have the murder recordings!""
""Recordings?"" Marianne's head tilted sideways with predatory precision. ""What recordings, Arthur?""
Bradley froze, realizing his slip. ""I... I meant the rumors—""
""You made copies,"" Marianne said, her voice dropping into an arctic whisper. ""When we silenced Jonathan's father six years ago, you kept a private digital insurance policy in the estate server. You used my private accounts as leverage.""
""Marianne, listen to me—""
Bang.
The gunshot sounded surprisingly muffled inside the soundproof study. Bradley gasped, looking down in disbelief at the expanding crimson circle on his white dress shirt. The briefcase dropped from his limp fingers, spilling documents across the oriental rug.
""Greed makes men remarkably sloppy,"" Marianne whispered, stepping around the desk as Bradley collapsed to his knees.
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Before she could raise the weapon to deliver a final shot, the heavy oak doors of the study blew inward with a deafening bang. A flashbang detonated, blinding Marianne with brilliant white light and disorienting thunder.
Through the smoke, a silhouette charged forward, knocking the revolver from her hand with ruthless, practiced precision.
