Chapter 5 - Blood and Thunder
The fight in the dark was brutal, desperate, and terrifyingly intimate. Julian and the female hitman crashed over tables, shattering plates and sending condiment bottles flying. Julian was larger, but he was exhausted, starving, and running on fumes. She was a professional machine, moving with lethal, calculated precision.
She slashed blindly in the dark, the sharp blade catching Julian’s shoulder, tearing through his ruined suit jacket and biting into his flesh. Julian hissed in pain but didn't let go. He drove his knee upward, catching her in the stomach, forcing her to stumble back.
"You're pathetic, Vance," she spat, recovering instantly and circling him in the pitch black. "Marcus always said you were too soft for the real world. That's why he took your company. That's why he took your life."
"He took nothing!" Julian roared, the anger finally overriding his fear. "He stole it because he couldn't build it!"
He charged again. A massive crack of thunder shook the building, masking the sound of their collision. She lunged forward with the knife, aiming for his chest. Julian twisted his body at the last possible second. The blade grazed his ribs, but the momentum carried her forward. Julian used her own weight against her, grabbing her arm and twisting violently.
She screamed, dropping the knife. Julian didn't hesitate. He grabbed the heavy, cast-iron napkin dispenser off the nearest table and swung it in a brutal arc. It connected with the side of her head. She crumpled to the floor, instantly unconscious, joining her partner in the dark.
Julian stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his shoulder and ribs. The diner was eerily silent again, save for the rain.
"Clara?" Julian called out, his voice hoarse and trembling. "Dad?"
"We're here," Clara's shaky voice called from the kitchen. "We're okay. Are they...?"
"They're down," Julian said, stumbling toward the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter to keep himself upright.
He found them huddled behind the refrigerator. Clara had found a small emergency flashlight in the kitchen drawer and clicked it on. The pale beam illuminated Julian's battered, bloody face. Clara gasped, immediately grabbing a clean bar towel and pressing it against the wound on his shoulder.
"You're bleeding badly," she said, her nursing instincts taking over her fear.
"I'm fine," Julian lied, wincing. He knelt beside his father. Arthur was looking at him with a mixture of terror and overwhelming pride. Julian reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small, black USB drive.
"Clara, listen to me very carefully," Julian said, his eyes burning with intensity. He pressed the drive into her small hand. "This drive contains the encrypted ledgers. Offshore accounts, wire transfers, everything. It proves Marcus orchestrated the murders and the embezzlement. It completely clears my name."
"Why are you giving it to me?" Clara asked, her eyes wide.
"Because the local police are going to be here any minute. Someone must have heard the gunshots, or Marcus has them pinging these assassins' phones," Julian explained rapidly. "If the local cops find this on me, it disappears, and I die in a cell tonight. You have to take it. You have to take it to the FBI field office in the city. Hand it directly to Agent Miller. Only him."
"Julian, no," Arthur wheezed, grabbing his son's bloody arm. "Don't leave again."
"I'm not running this time, Dad," Julian said, a sad, determined smile touching his lips. "I'm going to surrender. I'll buy Clara the time she needs. Once the FBI sees this, Marcus is finished. And I'll come home."
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Suddenly, the diner's front windows were bathed in blinding, strobing red and blue lights. The wail of police sirens pierced the storm. They were surrounded.
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