Chapter 4 - Striking the Hive
Sterling Enterprises occupied the top three floors of a glass-and-steel high-rise in downtown Chicago. It was a fortress of corporate security: keycard elevators, armed private guards, and cameras on every corner.
But I didn't need to breach the front door. I had trained the men who designed these systems.
It was 11:00 PM. The rain was coming down in sheets, washing the grime off the city streets. I stood on the roof of the adjacent building, securing a zip-line to an industrial HVAC unit. I was dressed in a dark grey tactical suit, a matte-black suppressed SIG Sauer holstered at my hip, though I had no intention of using it. Bullets are quick. I wanted Jason to feel this.
I stepped off the ledge.
The wind whipped past me as I slid silently across the gap between the buildings, my boots touching down softly on the balcony of Jason’s private corner office. I used a localized EMP scrambler to blind the security cameras in the room, then popped the lock on the reinforced glass door with a magnetic bypass.
The office smelled like expensive scotch and desperation. Papers were scattered across the mahogany desk. Jason was feeling the heat.
I didn't break anything. I didn't steal anything. I just went to work.
Using a USB drive loaded with a custom decryption worm provided by the Colonel, I bypassed Jason’s computer firewall in less than sixty seconds. I downloaded every hidden ledger, every offshore routing number, and every email correspondence between Eleanor and the Sinaloa cartel.
Then, I opened Jason’s private safe. It wasn't hard; arrogant men always use their own birthdays. Inside, there were stacks of hundred-dollar bills and a silver revolver. I ignored the money and took the gun, field-stripping it into pieces, and left the parts scattered across his desk.
Right in the center of his desk, on top of the most incriminating cartel ledger, I placed a photograph. It was the picture I had taken of the fabric shears lying on the bloody white rug in Sarah's bedroom.
Beside it, I left a simple note written in heavy black marker.
I am the wolf. And your house is made of straw.
May you like
I was gone before the security patrol even reached the floor. When Jason arrived the next morning, he wouldn't just know he was exposed. He would know that all his money, all his lawyers, and all his gates couldn't keep me out. He was breathing borrowed air.
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