Chapter 5 - Face to Face with the Devil
"What a touching family reunion," Victor Vance said, his voice smooth as silk and cold as the winter air blowing through the shattered door. He stepped into the boathouse, his Italian leather shoes crunching on the frozen floorboards.
Marcus instantly raised his weapon, but before he could fire, one of Vance’s men struck him across the back of the head with the butt of a shotgun. Marcus dropped to the floor, stunned, his gun sliding across the ice.
Claire threw herself in front of Noah and Lily, pulling them behind her as Vance’s men kicked Marcus’s weapon away and pinned the driver to the ground.
"Claire Holloway," Vance said, leaning heavily on a silver-tipped cane. "You have given my men quite a chase. I must admit, Daniel picked a surprisingly resilient wife. I expected you to break months ago when we cut off your late husband's insurance payouts."
"You killed him," Claire said, her voice trembling with a mixture of terror and white-hot rage. "You murdered Daniel!"
Vance sighed softly, as if disappointed by her vulgar directness. "Daniel murdered himself the moment he decided to play the hero. He was an architect, Claire. A draftsman. He was supposed to draw pretty buildings and sign off on our site surveys. He wasn't supposed to go digging into chemical storage logs in Oakridge."
"You poisoned this land!" Claire shouted. "You buried thousands of barrels of industrial waste right next to the town’s water table, and then you built housing developments over it!"
"And I made two hundred million dollars doing it," Vance replied smoothly. He gestured toward the open laptop sitting on the wooden crate. "And now, you are going to hand over that laptop, the drive, and that charming little journal."
"Never," Claire spat. "The files are already decrypting. As soon as this laptop connects to a cell network, they'll upload automatically to the federal prosecutor's office!"
Vance smiled, pulling a heavy silver cigarette case from his pocket. He clicked it open, selected a cigarette, and lit it with a golden lighter. "Cell network? My dear woman, look at your phone. We brought a portable signal jammer. Nothing is leaving this boathouse."
Claire glanced at her phone. The signal bars were completely gone. Red text on the laptop screen flashed: NETWORK ERROR - UPLOAD FAILED.
"Now," Vance said, blowing a thin plume of gray smoke into the freezing air. "Here is how this plays out. You give me the drive. You and your children walk out onto that frozen lake. The ice out near the center is notoriously thin this time of year. A tragic Christmas Day accident. A grieving widow, driven to despair by poverty, takes her children into the cold..."
"You monster!" Claire screamed.
"Daddy said you were a bad man!" Noah suddenly yelled, stepping out from behind Claire, his small fists clenched at his sides. "He said bad men always lose!"
Vance looked down at the eight-year-old boy, his smile fading into a look of cold disdain. "Your daddy was wrong, kid. Bad men own the world."
Vance gestured to one of his mercenaries. "Take the laptop. Put them on the ice."
"Wait!" a loud, booming voice echoed from the shoreline outside.
Everyone froze.
Through the ruined doorway of the boathouse, a black stretch limousine pulled up onto the snow bank, followed by two local police cruisers with sirens wailing and lights flashing red and blue across the white landscape.
The rear door of the limousine opened. Out stepped Arthur Holloway, his coat stained with dirt and blood, his head bandaged, but his posture straight as iron. Beside him stood the State Attorney General and four armed State Troopers.
"Drop your weapons, Vance!" Arthur’s voice echoed across the frozen lake like thunder. "The state police have already raided your corporate offices in Chicago! It’s over!"
Vance’s face shattered into a mask of pure fury. "How are you alive?!" he snarled at Arthur.
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"Because my son raised a family worth fighting for," Arthur shouted back. "And unlike you, I have enough money to buy off your private security team before they could finish the job!"
Vance panicked. He snatched the laptop from the crate, raised his gun, and pointed it directly at Claire’s chest. "Nobody moves, or I end her right now!"
