Chapter 7 - The Syndicate's Fracture
The cold muzzle of the submachine gun pressed lightly against the back of Dante’s neck, sending a shiver through the thin cotton hospital trousers he wore. The tactical operator’s breathing was heavy, amplified by the cramped acoustics of the sub-level server room.
“Hands on the console where I can see them,” the operator ordered, his finger twitching nervously against the trigger guard. “Don't try any heroics. We’ve been authorized to bring you back in pieces if necessary.”
Dante slowly raised his hands, resting his palms flat against the cold metal casing of the mainframe terminal. A thin smirk played across his lips. He didn't look like a captive; he looked like a man who had just played his winning hand.
“You think Voss is going to share the throne with mercenaries like you?” Dante asked softly, his voice carrying an effortless calm that unnerved the operator. “Once I’m gone, what stops him from cleaning house? A man who betrays his lifetime boss won't hesitate to eliminate the hired help who know where the bodies are buried.”
The operator hesitated, his grip tightening fractionally on the weapon. “Shut your mouth. Voss has the council in his pocket. The city belongs to him now.”
“Does it?” Dante tilted his head slightly toward the flashing green terminal screen. “Take a look at that monitor. That’s every bribe, every offshore transfer, every shell corporation Voss has set up over the last five years. It’s currently uploading to three federal servers and every independent news desk in the tri-state area. If my heart stops beating, your names go straight to the top of the indictment list as accessories to high treason and murder.”
The operator’s eyes darted toward the screen, reading the rapidly scrolling streams of encrypted data packets. Panic flickered across his face behind the tinted tactical visor. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” Dante chuckled darkly. “Check your secure comms channel. Ask Voss what happens when the federal grand jury gets the keys to his Swiss accounts.”
May you like
Before the operator could reach for his shoulder mic, a deafening explosion rocked the ceiling above them. Chunks of concrete and dust rained down from the roof of the sub-level as a massive fireball shuddered through the hospital’s lower infrastructure. The emergency klaxons shrieked with a higher, frantic pitch.
In the chaos, the operator lost his footing as the floor beneath them violently bucked. Dante didn't hesitate; he spun around, driving his elbow upward with explosive force into the operator’s visor, sending the man crashing backward into the server racks with a sickening thud.
