Chapter 8 - The Weakest Link
The safehouse was a modest, unassuming ranch-style home in the suburbs of Bellevue, flanked by two unmarked black SUVs. Inside, Beatrice was resting in the master bedroom, the rhythmic hum of an oxygen concentrator providing a soothing background noise.
Maya sat in the kitchen, staring blankly at a bowl of untouched soup. Julian was at the dining room table, surrounded by three laptops, his fingers flying across the keyboards at blinding speed.
"You haven't slept in two days, Julian," Maya noted quietly.
"Sleep is a luxury I can't afford right now," Julian replied, his eyes locked on the scrolling lines of code on the center screen. "I managed to clone the encrypted drive from Victoria's burner phone before it wiped itself. Desmond's operational security is good, but it's antiquated. He thinks like a man from ten years ago."
"Did you find his location?"
"Not yet," Julian muttered. "He bounces his IP address through servers in Russia and South America. But I did find his bankroll. He’s been moving massive amounts of cryptocurrency through a decentralized exchange."
Suddenly, a loud, synthetic alarm blared from Julian's left laptop. A red warning banner flashed across the screen.
ALERT: PERIMETER BREACH - SECTOR 4.
Julian slammed the laptop shut and drew the licensed concealed carry pistol from his shoulder holster. "Maya, get under the table. Now."
Maya didn't hesitate. She dove beneath the heavy oak dining table just as the front window shattered inward. A canister trailing thick, acrid white smoke bounced across the hardwood floor.
Tear gas.
Julian pulled his shirt over his nose and aimed his weapon at the front door. The heavy oak door was kicked open, splintering the frame. Two men in tactical black gear and gas masks stepped into the smoke-filled living room, suppressed weapons raised.
They weren't there for Julian. They were sweeping the room, looking for Maya. Desmond knew she was the star witness who could tie the abuse directly to Victoria, unraveling the entire legal defense.
"Federal Agents! Drop your weapons!" a voice boomed from the backyard.
The safehouse had been a trap. Julian had anticipated Desmond would send a clean-up crew for Maya. Agent Vance and a heavily armed SWAT team had been waiting in the detached garage, watching the perimeter on thermal cameras.
Gunfire erupted. The sharp, deafening cracks of assault rifles filled the small house. Julian kept his body shielded behind the kitchen island, tracking the intruders. The men in black returned fire briefly before realizing they were hopelessly outgunned.
One of the assassins fell, taking a round to the shoulder. The other dropped his weapon and put his hands in the air.
Within seconds, the smoke was clearing, blown out by the open doors. Vance kicked the downed assassin's weapon away and zip-tied his wrists.
"Are you two alright?" Vance yelled over the ringing in their ears.
Julian helped a coughing Maya out from under the table. "We're fine. Check on my mother!"
A female agent ran down the hall and returned a moment later, giving a thumbs up. "She slept through it. Earplugs and sleeping pills."
Julian walked over to the captured assassin, who was kneeling on the glass-covered floor. He grabbed the man by the collar of his tactical vest.
"Desmond sent you," Julian growled.
The man just smirked beneath his mask.
May you like
"He won't talk," Vance said, pulling the mask off. "Private military contractors. They get paid to keep their mouths shut."
"I don't need him to talk," Julian said, noticing a highly specialized encrypted smartwatch on the mercenary’s wrist. He unbuckled it and slipped it into his pocket. "He just gave me the back door into Desmond's secure network."
