Chapter 23 - The Dead Man's Switch
Before Julian could level the suppressor toward my chest, the concrete floor beneath our feet shuddered with a deep, subterranean rumble.
The blinking status lights on the massive server racks suddenly flickered, turning from steady green to an urgent, pulsing amber. A high-pitched diagnostic alarm wailed from the master console, cutting through the heavy silence of the warehouse like a siren.
Julian froze, his hand trembling slightly as he glanced down at the glowing monitor on his desk. "What did you do?" he hissed, turning his wild eyes back toward me. "Did you plant a virus in the local sub-net?"
"I didn't need to," I said, taking two slow steps to my right, putting a thick steel server pillar between us while keeping my hand firmly on my weapon. "You assumed Margaret and I were sitting in the executive suite waiting for your trap to spring. But you forgot one fundamental rule of corporate espionage, Julian: never trust a disgruntled IT contractor who’s already cut a deal with federal prosecutors."
Julian’s face went completely bloodless. "Thomas... the fool signed an NDA..."
"Thomas signed a federal cooperation agreement forty minutes ago," I replied coldly. "Which means the moment your proxy servers initiated the mirror sync with this warehouse, the NYPD cybercrimes division didn't just trace the IP. They uploaded an active-drain payload straight into your primary router."
On the massive overhead schematic, the crimson-hued lines representing the global financial mirror began to shatter into a cascading waterfall of binary garbage. The progress bars plummeted from ninety percent down to zero in a matter of seconds, replaced by a flashing federal seizure notice stamped with the seal of the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York.
"No! No, you bitch! You arrogant little—"
With a roar of pure, unadulterated rage, Julian raised the Walther and squeezed the trigger.
The suppressed pistol coughed twice in rapid succession. The first round chewed a chunk of splintered wood off the edge of the mahogany desk; the second punched a smoking hole into the concrete floor inches from my left boot.
I didn't hesitate. I drew the Browning Hi-Power, flicked the safety off, and dropped to one knee, steadying my grip against the cold steel of the server rack.
"Drop the weapon, Julian! Last warning!" I shouted, the barrel locked dead center on his chest.
May you like
He hesitated, his chest heaving beneath his heavy overcoat, his finger twitching nervously against the trigger guard. For a terrifying heartbeat, I saw the absolute madness in his eyes—the willingness to die just to take me down with him.
Then, the heavy steel loading bay doors at the opposite end of the warehouse exploded inward with a deafening crash.
