Chapter 7 - The Traitor at the Table
Before Vincent could wash his hand, Marco raised a finger to his headset. "Hold on, boss. We got an incoming hit on our perimeter node. Someone just accessed our estate's secondary IP address from an unlisted internal terminal."
Vincent turned sharply. "What do you mean, internal?"
"Someone inside this house just pinged an external IP address registered to Northstar’s corporate headquarters," Marco said, his eyes darting across a network map. "The ping lasted four seconds. It sent our GPS coordinates."
Frank’s gun was out before Marco finished the sentence. "There are only eight people in this house right now. Us, Sarah, Lucy, Maria, and the three perimeter guards."
"Not the guards," Vincent said, his eyes narrowing as he looked toward the library door. "Who brought the soup for the girl?"
"Elena," Frank said, his face draining of color. "Elena’s been your upstairs house manager for seven years. Her sister works at—"
"Elena’s sister works in human resources at Northstar," Vincent finished coldly.
Without another word, Vincent walked out of the library and into the cavernous stone corridor. Frank followed two paces behind, gun low by his hip.
They found Elena in the butler's pantry near the kitchen. She was thirty-five, impeccably dressed in a gray uniform, packing her handbag with frantic, jerky motions. On the counter beside her lay a disposable burner phone with the screen still lit.
When she heard Vincent’s heavy footstep, she spun around, dropping her purse to the floor. Lipsticks and compact powder scattered across the checkerboard marble.
"Vincent..." she gasped, her hands trembling. "I was just... I was checking on the evening groceries."
Vincent walked forward until he was standing six inches from her. He looked down at the burner phone on the marble counter. He picked it up with his uninjured hand. The last sent message read: *GIRL AND DOG ARE HERE. ESTATE MAIN HOUSE.*
"Seven years, Elena," Vincent said quietly. "I paid for your mother’s cancer treatment at Mayo Clinic. I bought your nephew’s college trust fund."
Elena burst into tears, sinking against the edge of the sink. "They have my sister, Vincent! Julian Vance called me an hour ago. He said if I didn't confirm the girl's arrival, they would put her body in a shredder at the Calumet facility! I had no choice! He has everyone! He owns the city!"
"He doesn't own me," Vincent replied softly.
He handed the burner phone to Frank. "Lock her in the wine cellar. Take her jewelry and shoes. Do not harm her."
"Vincent, please!" Elena sobbed as Frank grabbed her arm. "Vance’s strike team is already five minutes out! He sent two tactical vans from his private security wing! They have automatic rifles and thermite charges! They're coming to kill everyone!"
Vincent didn't answer. He walked back to the library.
Lucy was standing near the door, holding Scout by his leather harness. The little girl looked terrified, having heard the shouting down the hall.
"Mr. Vincent?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Are the bad men coming?"
Vincent knelt down in front of her. He ignored the stinging cut on his hand. He looked into her wide, innocent hazel eyes and smiled—a real, gentle smile that had not touched his face in five long years.
"Yes, Lucy," Vincent said. "They are coming. But you and your mother and Scout are going to go into the storm bunker under the pantry with Maria. You will hear some loud noises, but nobody is going to get through that steel door. Do you believe me?"
Lucy looked at Scout. The golden retriever leaned against Vincent’s knee, licking the small scratch on his knuckles.
"Scout likes you," Lucy said quietly. "He only likes people who tell the truth."
May you like
"Then you know I’m telling the truth," Vincent said. He stood up and looked at Frank, who had just returned to the room. "Frank. Break out the heavy iron from the armory. We greet them on the front lawn."
***
