Chapter 9 - THE BLOODLINE'S END
Z
The rear tires of the Mercedes Sprinter screeched against the wet concrete, metal grinding on stone as the weight of the heavy diesel engine pulled the vehicle down toward the freezing lake. The chassis groaned violently under the strain.
I launched myself through the open side door, landing hard on the rubberized floor of the van just as the rear axle slipped another six inches over the precipice.
Inside, the driver lay dead over the steering wheel, my bullets having pierced the windshield. But in the passenger area, the second operator was struggling to his feet, pulling a combat knife from his tactical vest.
Maya was lying on her side near the front seats, her wrists bound with heavy plastic zip-ties, her forehead bleeding from a cut sustained during the crash.
"Daniel! The van is going over!" she screamed.
The operator lunged at me with the knife, driving the blade toward my throat.
I caught his wrist with my left hand, jamming his arm upward, and drove a vicious palm-heel strike directly into his nose, shattering the bone and driving him back against the rear doors. The sudden shift in weight caused the van to tilt further down—the rear wheels lifted off the bridge edge entirely.
CREAK. SLIDE.
The van was falling.
I grabbed the operator by his vest, spun him around, and threw him toward the back doors. His weight hit the latch, popping the doors open, and he tumbled backward into thirty feet of freefall, splashing into the icy black waters below.
I turned, lunged for Maya, and grabbed her by the shoulder of her coat with one hand while grabbing the steel frame of the vehicle’s side door with the other.
"Hold onto me!" I shouted over the roar of the wind.
Maya wrapped her tied hands around my neck with all the strength she had left.
With a final, sickening crunch of metal, the van slipped off the bridge.
I kicked off the door frame with both feet, propelling us backward out of the falling vehicle just as gravity took hold of the Sprinter. The van plunged nose-first into the lake, striking the frozen water with a sound like a bomb going off, swallowing the steel machine beneath a plume of white foam and black water.
We hit the snow-covered concrete of the bridge hard, rolling twice across the slick road until we slammed against the Audi’s rear tire.
Pain shot through my ribs, but I scrambled to my feet instantly, pulling my tactical knife from my belt and slicing through the heavy zip-ties on Maya’s wrists.
She collapsed against my chest, sobbing into my wet jacket, her hands holding onto my lapels as if she would fall into the sky if she let go.
"I have you," I whispered, pressing my lips against her blood-stained hair, my arms wrapped tight around her in the middle of the Swiss snowstorm. "I have you, Maya. It's over."
"He... he was there, Daniel," Maya gasped through her tears, looking up into my face with wide, terrified eyes. "On the radio before they attacked the bank. The Baron. He said he was at his private estate in the Swiss Alps. He said if you survived... he would finish what your father started thirty years ago."
I pulled her up, helping her into the heated passenger seat of the Audi, and retrieved my Sig Sauer from the hood.
"Where is his estate, Maya?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm, all pain and exhaustion vanishing beneath an absolute, singular focus.
"Lake Lugano," she whispered, pulling my wool scarf around her neck. "The Chateau Bellevue. He's leaving Europe on his private helicopter at midnight."
I looked at the dashboard clock. The time was 8:45 PM.
I reached into my coat pocket, pulling out the glass ledger disk I had recovered from the bank vault. It was completely dry, undamaged, its micro-circuits gleaming beneath the interior map light.
I pulled up Sarah Lin’s encrypted federal comms channel on my tablet.
"Sarah," I said as soon as the line connected.
"Daniel! Where are you?" Sarah’s voice cried out over the speaker. "Swiss authorities are reporting a massive firefight in Zurich and a vehicle explosion on Highway 3! Interpol is issuing—"
"Listen to me carefully, Sarah," I interrupted, my voice cutting through her panic like a razor blade. "I am uploading the master decryption keys for Sovereign Capital to your secure server right now."
A pause on the line, followed by the rapid clatter of Sarah typing on her terminal. "My God... Daniel, this is... this is everything. The names, the offshore accounts, the defense procurement bribes... this will bring down half the defense contractors in Europe."
"Issue the international warrants now, Sarah," I said. "Send them directly to the Swiss Federal Police and NATO command. Tell them Baron Henrik Von Stauffen is at Chateau Bellevue on Lake Lugano."
"Where are you going?" Sarah asked, sudden alarm in her voice. "Daniel, stay where you are! Let Swiss tactical teams handle the compound!"
"Swiss tactical teams are two hours away," I replied, staring south down the snow-covered mountain highway toward the Italian border. "And the Baron has fifteen minutes before his flight clears airspace."
"Daniel, you can't assault a fortified Alpine estate by yourself!" Sarah warned. "It's suicide!"
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"I’m not by myself," I said, looking over at Maya, whose hand reached across the console to rest firmly over mine. "I’m bringing my father’s memory with me."
I cut the line, slammed the Audi into gear, and accelerated south into the darkness, chasing the final monster to his lair.
