Chapter 4 - THE MENTOR'S SHADOW
Victor froze. The heavy black ledger felt like a block of lead in his hands. He looked at Richard. The assistant manager’s hand was perfectly steady. He had played the cowardly, flustered employee perfectly downstairs.
“You,” Victor said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
“Me,” Richard agreed calmly. “Senator Vance sends his regards. He also wants his book back.”
Emma stood perfectly still. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. Instead, her eyes darted to a heavy brass lamp sitting on the edge of the desk, just inches from her elbow.
“How long, Richard?” Victor asked, slowly lowering his gun to keep the man’s attention on him. “How long have you been Vance’s lapdog?”
“Long enough to know that your brother couldn't keep his nose out of the foundation’s books,” Richard sneered. “Ethan hired Marcus to track the money. When we found out, Vance ordered it handled. I cut the brake lines. Daniel was just the idiot security guard who happened to be patrolling the garage. He didn’t kill your brother, Victor. I did.”
The words hit Victor like a physical blow. Seven years of grief, of unanswered questions, distilled into a sneer from a man he had paid a salary to.
“And Marcus?” Victor asked.
“Marcus faked his own death,” Richard said, taking a step closer. “Smart man. But not smart enough to stay hidden forever. Now, slide the ledger across the floor. Slowly.”
Victor looked at Emma. He gave her a fraction of a nod.
Emma didn't hesitate. With a sudden, violent sweep of her arm, she shoved the heavy brass lamp directly off the desk.
It crashed to the floor with a deafening shatter.
Richard flinched, his eyes darting to the noise for a split second.
It was all Victor needed. He lunged, closing the distance in a heartbeat. He grabbed Richard’s wrist, twisting it upward with bone-snapping force. The suppressed pistol discharged into the ceiling with a quiet pfft.
Richard screamed, but Victor silenced him with a brutal elbow to the jaw. The assistant manager crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Victor stood over him, chest heaving. He looked at Emma. She was pale, but she gave him a sharp, firm nod.
“Good girl,” Victor breathed.
He knelt and searched Richard’s pockets. He found a heavy iron ring holding a single, frost-covered key. The master key to the industrial freezer.
“We have to move,” Victor said, grabbing the ledger. “Vance is downstairs. He knows we’re close.”
They hurried back to the service elevators. Victor bypassed the main floors, taking them straight into the concrete belly of the hotel. The basement was a labyrinth of exposed pipes, humming generators, and flickering fluorescent lights.
It was freezing.
Victor gripped his weapon, keeping Emma behind him as they navigated the narrow corridors. They reached the heavy steel door of the industrial freezer. The digital temperature readout above it flashed an angry red: -10°F.
Victor shoved the frost-covered key into the lock and twisted. The heavy door groaned open, releasing a thick cloud of white vapor into the hallway.
“Marcus!” Victor shouted, his voice echoing in the icy chamber.
Through the fog, he saw a figure huddled in the corner, chained to a metal shelving unit. It was Marcus. His lips were blue, his skin pale as snow.
Emma broke away from Victor, running into the freezing room. She threw her arms around her father, sobbing silently.
Marcus weakly opened his eyes. He raised a trembling hand to stroke his daughter’s hair. “Emma… you did it. You found him.”
Victor rushed forward, raising his gun to shoot the chain.
“Stop!” Marcus choked out, his eyes suddenly wide with terror. He pulled his coat aside with a shivering hand.
Victor froze.
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Strapped to Marcus’s chest was a block of C4 explosive. And wired to the center of it was a digital timer, glowing brightly in the dark freezer.
It read: 02:14.
