Chapter 5 - The Counter-Strike
The satellite phone felt heavy and foreign in my hand as I dialed the private emergency number memorized on the back of Inez’s business card. The screen glowed harshly in the damp confines of the cellar, casting long, jittery shadows against the concrete walls.
"Inez," I said the second the line connected, cutting through her opening greeting. "We’re locked in the property vault. Derek and his men just sealed us in."
On the other end of the line, Inez didn't panic. Her voice shifted instantly into razor-sharp professional gear. "Are you and your parents safe?"
"We're physically fine, but Derek just moved the three-million-dollar escrow funds offshore twelve hours ago, and he thinks he's cleared the land titles. He's executing the final municipal handover at sunrise."
"He didn't clear anything," Inez snapped back sharply, the sound of rapid keyboard typing clicking through the receiver. "I was digging through the county recorder's digital backlog while we were on hold earlier. The primary mortgage backing Derek's shell corporation—Meridian Trust—wasn't approved by a local bank. It was underwritten by a federal agricultural development fund that prohibits commercial rezoning without the primary titleholder’s physical signature in the presence of a federal magistrate."
I stared across the table at my father, who was systematically laying out the uncashed certified checks and the fireproof bankruptcy files.
"What does that mean, Inez?" I asked.
"It means the paperwork Derek used to take over the house is a federal felony," Inez said, her tone dropping into a lethal register. "If he executes that handover at sunrise without a federal magistrate present, it’s not just civil fraud—it’s interstate wire fraud and bank tampering. The FBI's white-collar division in Chicago has been investigating Meridian Trust for six months. I can route this entire file directly to their desk tonight."
"Do it," I said without hesitation. "Route it. Now."
"It takes two hours to clear through secure channels," Inez replied. "Can you and your parents hold the vault until sunrise? Because if Derek realizes we've bypassed his local blockades before the federal warrant is signed, he and his enforcers will wipe the hard drives and cross the state line."
"We're not going anywhere," I said, looking down at the heavy steel door above us.
"Good," Inez said. "Hold the line. I'm waking up a federal judge in Chicago right now."
The call disconnected with a soft click.
I lowered the satellite phone, the dim screen fading to black. In the heavy silence of the underground vault, the distant sound of music and laughter drifted down faintly from the house above, completely unaware of the storm gathering beneath their feet.
Dad walked over, placing a heavy, steady hand on my shoulder, his expression unwavering.
May you like
"Your brother always was impatient," Manuel whispered quietly into the dark. "He wanted to inherit the house before he knew how to build one. Now let's see how fast he runs when the roof caves in."
I nodded, my grip tightening on the edge of the oak table as we waited in the damp dark, staring at the locked metal door above, listening to the slow, relentless tick of time counting down toward dawn.
