Chapter 13 - The Bridge of Treason
The upper decks of The Leviathan were eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic pounding of the vessel's twin engines pushing through the turbulent ocean swells. The storm outside had intensified, lashing torrential rain and gale-force winds against the floor-to-ceiling panoramic glass of the observation deck.
Julian led Clara and Eleanor up the service stairwell, staying low beneath the shadows of the bulkheads. Peering through the reinforced glass partition, Julian saw him: Richard Vance.
Richard looked terrifyingly like Julian's deceased father, though his hair was streaked with silver and his face bore a deep, jagged scar running from his left ear to his chin. He stood in front of a glowing tactical computer array, a silver tumbler of scotch in his hand, watching a progress bar slowly creep toward one hundred percent.
Beside him stood the butcher Eleanor had warned them about—a seven-foot behemoth of a man known simply as Goliath, armed with an automatic shotgun and clad in heavy blast armor.
""Three minutes until the global clearinghouse confirms the wire transfer,"" Richard said, his deep, resonant voice drifting through the ventilation duct. ""Fifty years of my brother's sanctimonious empire, finally returned to its rightful architect.""
""Julian,"" Clara whispered beside him, pointing toward the ceiling above the terminal. ""The emergency halon fire system. If we trigger the manual release valve, it will deplete the oxygen in that room in forty seconds.""
""Eleanor and I will breach the main doors to draw the heavy's fire,"" Julian instructed in a hushed whisper. ""Clara, you crawl through the maintenance vent and pull that valve. Don't come out until the room is dead silent.""
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Clara looked at him, her hazel eyes reflecting the dim red emergency lights. ""Be careful, Julian.""
Julian didn't wait. With a ferocious kick, he blew open the steel doors, stepping into the lion’s den with both guns blazing.
