Chapter 9 - THE FINAL GAMBIT
The estate was a fortress, but Daniel’s access codes bypassed the perimeter alarms. We slipped through the side gardens, shadows moving against the manicured lawns.
We reached the study. I threw back the rug and dialed the combination. 07-14-82. The safe clicked open. I grabbed the ledger and the manila envelope, shoving them into my backpack.
"Got it," I whispered.
Suddenly, the lights in the study blazed on.
Standing in the doorway was Alejandro, holding a suppressed pistol. Behind him stood two of his enforcers.
"I have to admit," Alejandro said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "I didn't think you had it in you, Mariana. I thought you would just run."
He stepped into the room, leveling the gun at Robert's chest. "It's poetic, really. You both dying in the room where her father sealed your fates."
"You killed him," I spat, stepping in front of Robert.
Alejandro smiled. "He was old. He was careless. I am neither."
He raised the gun. "Goodbye, darling."
Before he could pull the trigger, a deafening crash shattered the silence. The French doors facing the garden exploded inward as an FBI tactical team swarmed the room, assault rifles raised and laser sights tracking instantly to Alejandro's chest.
"Drop the weapon! Drop it now!" a voice roared over a megaphone.
Alejandro froze, his arrogant smirk melting into pure terror. He dropped the gun.
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Robert pulled me against him, burying my face in his chest as the agents tackled Alejandro to the floor, slapping handcuffs on him.
I had sent the burner phone's digital backups of the documents—taken frantically the night I opened the safe—to a federal prosecutor I knew hated Alejandro. I hadn't trusted Daniel. The entire break-in was a stall tactic, a way to keep Alejandro in one place while the feds secured a warrant and mobilized.
