Chapter 5 - The Judas Kiss
The cabin was a fortress. The windows were reinforced with steel shutters, and the walls were lined with monitors displaying feeds from hidden cameras scattered throughout the woods.
Vance tossed me a hot cup of coffee and handed the girls thick wool blankets. "Sarah and I go way back. We used to work for the same intelligence firm before she went corporate. When she realized the syndicate was onto her, she came to me. We've been planning this takedown for fourteen years."
"When is she getting here?" I asked, my eyes scanning the camera feeds.
"Soon," Vance said smoothly. "She's securing the final decryption key in Seattle. Once she uploads it, the syndicate's entire financial network will be exposed to the FBI, Interpol, and the NSA. They'll be wiped off the map. You'll be free."
I nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and exhaustion. I looked over at my daughters. They were huddled on a leather couch, finally asleep after the most terrifying night of their lives. I felt a surge of fierce, protective love. We were almost at the finish line.
But then I noticed something on one of the monitors.
A black SUV was creeping up the dirt road, its headlights cut off. Then another. And another.
"Vance," I said, setting my coffee down. "Company."
Vance didn't rush to the monitors. He didn't pick up his rifle. Instead, he slowly pulled a 9mm pistol from his holster and pointed it directly at my chest.
"I'm sorry, Jacob," Vance said, his eyes cold and dead. "Fourteen years is a long time to hide. The syndicate offered me ten million dollars and a clean slate to hand over Sarah's leverage. And her leverage... is you."
My blood ran ice cold. "You sold her out."
"It's just business," Vance shrugged. "Wake the girls. Keep them quiet. If you cooperate, they won't suffer."
A fierce, blinding rage ignited in my chest. I wasn't an intelligence agent. I wasn't a spy. I was a father who had spent fourteen years fixing scraped knees, working double shifts, and keeping my family together. I was not going to lose them now.
I pretended to surrender, raising my hands and taking a step back. "Okay. Okay, Vance. Just let me wake them gently."
As I backed up, my heel hit the heavy iron fire poker resting by the hearth. In a fraction of a second, I kicked the poker up, caught it, and swung it like a baseball bat at Vance's wrist. The pistol fired wildly into the ceiling, deafeningly loud. Vance screamed as his wrist shattered. I drove my shoulder into his chest, tackling him through the heavy wooden coffee table.
The girls woke up screaming.
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"Hide in the bunker downstairs! Go!" I roared, wrestling with Vance for the gun. He punched me across the jaw, tasting blood, but I didn't care. I grabbed the heavy cast-iron coffee pot from the stove and brought it down on his skull. Vance went limp.
I snatched his gun and ran to the window. Outside, ten armed men were advancing on the cabin. We were trapped.
