Chapter 8 - THE TICKING CLOCK
“Daddy!” Maya shrieked, shrinking back into the leather armchair as Sterling pointed the silver revolver at Vincent’s chest.
Vincent didn't look at the gun. He looked at the silver pocket watch he had stolen from the dead Warden in Chapter 3, resting heavy in his left palm.
“Davis, shoot him!” Sterling barked, keeping his own gun leveled.
Davis was sobbing, her hands shaking violently as she aimed at Vincent’s back. “I’m sorry, Vincent. I’m so sorry.”
“You don't have to do this, Sarah,” Elias pleaded with his sister, stepping slowly into her line of fire, shielding Vincent. “He’s going to kill us all anyway. Put the gun down.”
Sterling rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”
Sterling’s finger tightened on the trigger.
Vincent moved. He didn't dive for cover. He whipped his left arm forward with blinding, terrifying speed.
He hurled the heavy silver pocket watch directly at Sterling’s face.
The heavy metal casing struck Sterling squarely on the bridge of his nose with a sickening CRUNCH.
Sterling screamed, his head snapping back, the revolver discharging wildly into the ceiling. Blood burst from his shattered nose.
In the fraction of a second it took Sterling to recover, Vincent closed the distance. He tackled the Director into the heavy mahogany desk, sending lamps and paperwork crashing to the floor.
Vincent drove his knee into Sterling’s chest, pinning him down, and brought his fist down like a hammer. One strike. Two. Sterling’s face turned into a bloody, bruised mess. Vincent disarmed him, kicking the silver revolver across the room.
Behind them, Elias grabbed his sister’s wrist, forcing her weapon down. Davis collapsed to her knees, weeping in shame.
Vincent hauled Sterling up by the lapels of his ruined, blood-soaked suit.
Sterling coughed, a wet, bloody laugh escaping his lips. He held up the delicate silver locket in his trembling hand.
“You can break every bone in my body, Moretti,” Sterling spat, his teeth stained red. “But I have the drive. The encryption is mine. You have nothing.”
Escalation.
Sterling was willing to take a beating because he believed he held the ultimate victory. With the data drive, he could destroy the evidence and rebuild his empire.
Vincent stared into the bleeding man’s eyes. He didn't look angry anymore. He looked remarkably at peace.
“You really think Sarah was foolish enough to hide the most dangerous data in the world around our daughter’s neck?” Vincent asked softly.
Sterling’s bloody smile faded. “What?”
Vincent reached out and gently took the locket from Sterling’s trembling hand. He popped the delicate clasp open.
There was no micro-USB drive inside. There was no memory card.
Instead, nestled inside the silver casing, was a tiny, complex microchip pulsing with a rapid, bright blue light.
Reversal.
“That isn't a data drive, Thomas,” Vincent said, his voice ringing with absolute, lethal certainty. “That is a localized, military-grade transponder beacon. It broadcasts a continuous, encrypted SOS signal to the Department of Defense on a closed loop.”
Sterling’s face drained of all color beneath the blood. “No.”
“The real data drive?” Vincent continued, dropping the Director back onto the ruined desk. “Sarah mailed it to the FBI Director a week before you had her killed. But the FBI couldn't touch you because you scrubbed the paper trail. They needed you in one place, caught red-handed holding illegal weapons, dead bodies, and a kidnapped child on federal property.”
Vincent looked at the pulsing blue light in the locket.
“I didn't come to this prison to find the drive, Sterling. I came to turn the beacon on.”
Suddenly, the deafening roar of twin-engine helicopters shook the reinforced glass of the suite's windows.
They weren't Sterling’s unmarked black choppers. They were heavy, military-grade Apache helicopters, shining blinding searchlights directly into the room.
The heavy mahogany doors of the suite exploded off their hinges.
A dozen heavily armored FBI Hostage Rescue Team operators swarmed into the room, their laser sights painting Sterling’s chest in a sea of red dots.
“FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET ON THE GROUND!” the lead operator roared.
Sterling looked at the laser sights on his chest, then at Vincent. The untouchable Director was finally, completely broken. He slowly dropped to his knees, raising his bloody hands in surrender.
Vincent didn't look back at him.
He turned around, walking past the tactical teams, and dropped to his knees in front of the leather armchair.
May you like
Maya was crying softly, holding her arms out.
Vincent wrapped his arms around his daughter, burying his face in her small shoulder, the weight of the entire world finally lifting from his shoulders.
