Chapter 13: The Serpent’s Den
The brushed steel doors to the master suite were locked, held shut by a heavy-duty magnetic seal. I didn't bother trying to pick the biometric keypad. I pulled a small, adhesive breaching charge from my vest, slapped it directly over the locking mechanism, and stepped back.
Pop.
The shaped charge blew inward with a muffled crunch, destroying the lock and blowing the heavy doors ajar.
I kicked the doors the rest of the way open and stepped into the room, my weapon raised and locked onto the center mass of the only occupant.
The master suite was massive, featuring a king-sized bed, panoramic reinforced windows looking out into the foggy harbor, and a sleek, modern desk.
Sitting behind that desk, entirely unbothered by the fact that I had just blown his door off its hinges, was a man in his late forties. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his silver hair slicked back. His face was a map of old violence—a jagged white scar ran from his left ear down to his collarbone.
He was pouring a glass of amber liquid from a crystal decanter.
"Major Elise Warren, I presume," the man said, his voice a smooth, cultured European baritone. He raised the glass toward me in a mocking toast. "I am Kaelen. I must admit, I expected the FBI. I didn't expect the prized daughter of Grant Warren to stage a black-ops raid on my vessel."
"Keep your hands where I can see them," I commanded, keeping the sights of my pistol leveled precisely between his eyes.
Kaelen took a slow sip of his drink, completely ignoring the firearm. "Your father was a pathetic, groveling creature. When he came to me asking for forty-five million dollars to cover his catastrophic real estate margins, I knew he could never pay it back through legitimate means. But I also knew about your mother's restricted fund. It was the perfect collateral."
"The fund is locked in a federal conservatorship," I said coldly. "You aren't getting a dime."
"Oh, I am well aware," Kaelen sighed, setting his glass down. "Which is why I sent my man to your apartment to retrieve the digital keys. A contingency plan. Sadly, you broke his nose. You are much more formidable than your sister led me to believe."
"My sister is sitting in a federal cell," I replied. "And you are going to join her."
Kaelen chuckled, a dark, abrasive sound. "I think not, Major. You see, I am a businessman. And when a debt goes unpaid, I don't go to the authorities. I liquidate the assets."
He reached his hand toward the edge of the desk.
"Don't move!" I barked, my finger tightening on the trigger.
"Or what? You'll shoot me?" Kaelen smiled, pressing a hidden button beneath the mahogany lip of the desk. "If my heart stops beating, a dead-man's switch on my encrypted server will automatically broadcast a massive, highly classified cache of operational data to the dark web."
I didn't flinch, though my mind raced.
"You think I care about your syndicate's secrets?" I asked.
"They aren't my secrets, Major," Kaelen said, his eyes glittering with malice. "They are yours. When my man breached your apartment, he didn't just look for the foundation keys. He downloaded the classified mission logs from your personal military laptop. Troop movements, informant identities, extraction coordinates in the Middle East. Everything you risked your life for. Everything your government entrusted you with."
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He leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the desk.
"If I die, or if I am arrested, that data goes public," Kaelen hissed. "Dozens of your military assets will be compromised and executed by sunrise. Your career will end in a treason tribunal. So, Major Warren... put the gun down. And let's negotiate."
