Chapter 8 - The Shadow's Advantage
Working in total darkness was an environment I knew intimately from night-navigation training during my service years. While my pursuers fumbled blindly, switching on cheap tactical flashlights that only gave away their positions, I moved silently along the back wall of the maintenance bay toward the secondary stairwell exit.
The beam of a flashlight cut across the room, sweeping inches from my face. I froze, blending into the dark alcove of a large transformer box.
“Spread out and sweep the back wall,” the lead operative muttered, his voice sounding dangerously close. “Sterling wants this message delivered before morning market trading opens. Make it look like a garage accident.”
Sterling.
So David was pulling the strings directly, using Vanguard’s dirty-money syndicate to eliminate anyone who threatened their hostile takeover. Julian was just a disposable pawn in a much larger, more dangerous game of industrial espionage.
As the operative passed my alcove, his flashlight beam dipping toward the floor, I stepped out from the shadows.
Before he could swing his weapon around, I brought the heavy metal heel of my shoe—which I had instinctively grabbed before fleeing the pillar—down hard across the back of his neck.
He dropped like a stone without a single sound, his flashlight clattering against the concrete.
May you like
I snatched his comms earpiece from his collar, pressing it into my ear just as the second operative yelled across the bay, “Tom? Did you find her?”
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