Chapter 10
Chapter 10 - The Revere Trap .The extraction wasn't as clean as we hoped. By the time Arthur’s team raided the squalid room Elliot had been renting in Lynn, he was gone. He had left behind a single burner phone, snapped in half, and a pile of printed code sheets scattered across a mattress that smelled of cheap liquor and despair."He was tipped off," Arthur reported as we drove through the pouring rain toward the north shore. "We tracked his transit card. He boarded a bus toward Revere Beach two hours ago. We’re tracking his cell signal via the local towers, but it’s bouncing. He’s using an encryption wrapper."
"An encryption wrapper he stole from me," I said, looking out the window at the neon signs of the highway blurring through the rain. "He’s trying to hide in the noise. He thinks if he stays in public spaces, we won't touch him."
"Where would he go in Revere?" Marcus asked from the front seat. "It’s a seaside town. This time of year, it’s mostly empty motels and boarded-up boardwalks."
"He’s meeting Charles," I said. "Charles Vance owns a shell company that holds the deed to an abandoned seafood packing plant near the marshes. It’s the only asset the SEC missed because it was listed under a dead relative's estate. It’s the perfect place to finalize a black-market transaction."
The SUV tore through the night, the tires splashing through deep puddles as we entered the industrial wasteland near the Revere marshes. The air smelled of salt, rot, and rust.
When we pulled up to the rusted iron gates of the packing plant, the rain was coming down in sheets. A single, black luxury SUV—an older model, likely rented with cash—was parked near the loading dock.
"Arthur, take your team through the perimeter," I commanded, checking the small, elegant silver pistol I kept in my jacket pocket—a custom piece designed more for deterrence than warfare, though it was fully loaded. "Marcus, stay in the car with the uplink. If my signal goes dead for more than three minutes, execute the data-wipe protocol on the entire Vanguard server network. We burn the company before we let them keep the code."
"Victoria, it’s too dangerous for you to go in there," Marcus pleaded.
"Elliot is my mistake, Marcus. I don't let others clean up my garbage," I said, opening the door and stepping out into the freezing downpour.
I walked through the broken side door of the plant, the heels of my designer boots clicking against the cracked concrete, the sound masked by the heavy drumming of the rain on the corrugated tin roof above. The interior was vast, dark, and filled with the skeletal remains of old conveyor belts and rusted fish hooks hanging from the ceiling.
A single halogen work light was set up in the center of the room, illuminating a plastic folding table.
Elliot sat there, hunched over a ruggedized laptop, his face pale, his eyes bloodshot and manic. Standing over him was Charles Vance, wearing an expensive wool coat that looked absurdly out of place in the filth of the factory. Two hired guards stood behind Charles, their hands resting inside their jackets.
"I told you she’d come," Elliot whispered, his voice echoing through the hollow space as his eyes found me in the shadows. He didn't look afraid; he looked triumphant, the twisted joy of a ruined man who had finally managed to drag his executioner into the mud with him.
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"Victoria," Charles Vance said, stepping forward, a cold, aristocratic smile on his face. "You really should have settled with us when you had the chance. Now, you're just a trespasser in a very dangerous neighborhood."
"You're an old man facing ten years in a federal penitentiary, Charles," I said, stepping into the circle of light, my hands casually tucked into the pockets of my black coat. "And Elliot is a parasite who doesn't realize he’s about to be crushed. Let’s skip the posturing. Where is the drive?"
