Chapter 4 - THE INFILTRATION
At 2:00 AM, the storm reached its peak. Thunderbolt after thunderbolt rattled the high-rise buildings across Midtown, lighting up the sky in fierce flashes of blue and white.
Inside the security room, Marcus Vance sat before twelve monitors displaying real-time thermal feeds of the penthouse exterior, the elevator shafts, and the service corridors.
I stood beside him, holding the small blue notebook Lucas had handed me. Inside were pages of meticulous handwriting, financial codes, account numbers, and personal letters written by Elena Miller before her death. It contained definitive proof that Victor Vance had murdered her through poisoned medication to force Arthur to release the encryption keys.
"Edward," Marcus said suddenly, his voice sharp. "Look at camera four."
On the thermal monitor tracking the service freight elevator, three dark silhouettes were ascending. They were bypassing the electronic lockout using a master override card issued only to building maintenance.
"They're moving fast," Marcus said, racking the slide of his concealed sidearm. "They've disabled the secondary alarm on floor forty-five."
"Get the children into the panic room," I commanded, my heart pounding with adrenaline, but my mind remaining completely crystal clear. "Now."
Marcus sprinted down the hallway toward the children's quarters. I walked to my desk, unlocked the bottom drawer, and pulled out a heavy steel emergency lock control module.
Within ten seconds, Marcus returned, carrying Sophie in one arm and guiding Lucas with the other. He ushered them into the reinforced steel panic room hidden behind the library bookcase.
"Stay inside, close the door, and do not open it for anyone except me," I told Lucas, looking him dead in the eye.
"Edward, don't leave us!" Lucas cried, grabbing my sleeve.
"I am right outside this door, Lucas," I said fiercely. "No one is getting through me. Do you hear me? No one."
I closed the heavy steel door, listening to the electronic bolts click into place.
A heavy crash echoed from the living room foyer as the service entrance door was breached with a hydraulic wedge!
Three men dressed in dark tactical gear stepped into the penthouse, their faces covered by balaclavas. The lead man carried a suppressed pistol.
"Edward Clayton," the leader sneered, his voice instantly recognizable—the same dark, gravelly voice from the phone call. "Make this easy. Give us the Miller boy and the notebook, and you get to keep breathing."
Before he could finish his sentence, Marcus stepped out from behind the marble pillar, firing two rapid shots into the lead intruder's body armor! The impact sent the man sprawling backward onto the tile!
The other two intruders returned fire, suppressed gunshots popping like firecrackers in the enclosed space! Glass shattered across the living room as expensive artwork was shredded by incoming rounds!
I lunged behind the heavy oak desk, using the electronic control module to trigger the building's emergency security shutters. Massive steel plates slammed down over every exterior window, plunging the room into darkness, illuminated only by the strobe of emergency red lights!
Marcus engaged the remaining two men in brutal, close-quarters hand-to-hand combat, utilizing the narrow hallway as a bottleneck. He neutralized one intruder with a heavy blow to the neck, but the third man managed to flank around the kitchen island, heading straight toward the library!
He raised his weapon toward the panic room door keypad!
I didn't hesitate. I tackled the man from behind with every ounce of physical force I possessed, driving him hard into the stone wall! We hit the floor in a flurry of blows. He smashed his elbow into my jaw, sending a metallic taste of blood into my mouth, but I grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the hardwood floor until his weapon clattered away across the rug!
Marcus appeared a second later, pinning the intruder's arms behind his back with heavy plastic flex-cuffs.
The apartment went silent, save for the heavy breathing of three men and the low whine of the emergency sirens echoing through the ventilation shafts.
I pulled myself up, wiping blood from my lip. I walked to the panic room, entered the eight-digit security code, and watched the heavy door slide open.
Lucas stood just inside, holding a heavy iron bookend in his small hands, ready to fight for his sister.
When he saw me standing there—bleeding, bruised, but unbroken—he dropped the iron bookend. It hit the carpet with a soft thud. He threw his arms around my waist, burying his face into my torn shirt, sobbing uncontrollably.
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I dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms around him and Sophie, holding them so tightly that not even the storm outside could touch them.
"I told you," I whispered, my voice rough with emotion. "No one gets through me."
