Chapter 10 - The Digital Trap
A sharp, high-pitched squeal erupted from the briefcase as a massive burst of encrypted EMP feedback surged through the data ports, instantly frying every electronic component inside the cargo van within a fifty-foot radius.
The van’s engine sputtered and died instantly, the dashboard lights flickering out in a shower of tiny sparks.
“What the hell did you do?!” the lead operative roared, dropping the smoking case as it began to vent thick, harmless grey smoke into the cold night air.
Before he could raise his weapon, I dropped into a low combat slide, sweeping his boots out from under him and driving my elbow hard into his chest as he hit the gravel. He let out a breathless gasp and went limp.
The second operative panicked, letting go of Jasmine’s arm and reaching for his sidearm. But before he could clear his holster, the crack of a high-powered rifle echoed through the pine trees from the ridge above us.
A round slammed into the dirt an inch from his boots, followed by General Vance’s amplified voice booming through a tactical megaphone from the tree line.
“Drop your weapon! Federal agents! You are completely surrounded!”
The second operative froze, threw his hands into the air, and dropped to his knees.
I stood up, dusting the gravel off my trousers, and walked over to Jasmine. I pulled the hunting knife from my tactical boot and sliced through the duct tape binding her wrists and mouth.
Jasmine collapsed against my shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, her designer clothes ruined by the dirt and pine needles.
“Maya... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry,” she wept into my uniform lapel. “I didn't know... Julian told us we’d be rich... I didn't know they were criminals...”
“I know, Jas,” I whispered, holding her tightly for a second before looking up as General Vance and four tactical MPs jogged down from the ridge, securing the area.
General Vance walked up, looking down at the smoking decoy briefcase with a grim smile. “Well executed, Sergeant. The main server farm in Arlington was successfully seized by the Marshals ten minutes ago. Sterling’s entire financial network is offline.”
“What about Director Vance?” I asked, stepping away from my weeping sister.
The General’s smile faded. He reached into his coat and pulled out a secure tablet, handing it to me.
“That’s the problem,” the General said quietly. “He wasn't at his estate. He boarded a private Gulfstream out of Dulles international fifteen minutes before the raid, heading straight for an unextradited airspace in South America.”
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I looked down at the tablet screen. The flight path was blinking red across the Atlantic.
The syndicate's local assets were crushed, but the architect was still in the air.
