Chapter 7 - The Counter-Strike
By 3:00 AM, Callaway Tower was a fortress. Two dozen armed men from Roman’s private security firm stood guard at every entrance. The ninth-floor apartment was boarded up, and Isla and Noah had been moved into Roman’s personal penthouse suite—a duplex of glass and steel that sat above the clouds.
Isla sat at the massive kitchen island, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, drinking hot tea Roman had made for her himself.
"They wanted the key," she said, her voice steady now, tempered by the fire she had survived. "The key to the safety deposit box at First National. It has the documents, the original land surveys, and the recorded conversations between Carl Voss and the environmental inspectors."
Roman sat across from her, a glass of scotch untouched before him. "We get the drive tomorrow morning. But we don't go to the local authorities. As I told you, Carl owns the precinct captains. We go over their heads."
"How?"
"Federal oversight," Roman said, a cold smile touching his lips. "The Department of Justice has been looking for a reason to investigate the city’s housing committee for years. They just needed an insider witness and hard, uncorrupted data. You are the witness, Isla. The drive is the data."
"But Carl will try to stop us before we can get to the federal building," she noted.
"Let him try," Roman said softly. "Tomorrow, I’m mobilizing every resource I have. We’re going to walk into First National Bank at noon. In broad daylight. Let’s see if Carl has the courage to start a war in front of the cameras."
The next morning, the city woke to a strange sight. A convoy of five identical black armored SUVs pulled out of the Callaway Tower garage, moving down Meridian Avenue.
Inside the middle SUV, Isla sat between Roman and Davis. She held a small metal key tightly in her fist. Her heart was racing, but when she looked at Roman, his calm, unyielding presence settled her fears.
"We’re being followed," Davis said, looking at the side mirrors. "Two gray sedans. Voss's men."
"Let them follow," Roman said. "They won't do anything until we get to the bank. Carl wants that drive more than he wants us dead. If they blow up the car, they destroy the evidence they need to erase."
The convoy pulled up to the grand stone entrance of First National Bank. Security guards from Callaway’s team immediately formed a human corridor from the car door to the bank entrance.
Roman stepped out first, offering his hand to Isla. She stepped out, Noah secured in a heavy chest carrier under her coat.
As they walked up the stone steps, a figure stepped out from behind one of the massive granite pillars.
It was Callum Voss. He looked desperate, his clothes disheveled, a manic light in his eyes.
"Isla!" he screamed, stepping toward her. "You ruined everything! We had a life! We were going to be rich!"
Davis immediately stepped between them, his hand moving toward his jacket, but Roman held up a hand, stopping him.
Isla stopped. She looked at the man she had loved for three years, the man she had planned to raise a family with, the man who had left her to die in a concrete stairwell with his own child.
She felt no anger. She felt no fear. She only felt a profound, exhausting pity.
"We never had a life, Callum," she said, her voice ringing clearly across the plaza. "You had an ambition. And you used your own son as collateral. Look at yourself. You’re not a man. You’re just a shadow of your uncle."
"Give me the key, Isla!" Callum yelled, reaching into his pocket. "Give it to me, or Carl says we have to—"
Before he could pull his hand out, three unmarked black sedans screeched to a halt at the curb. Doors flew open, and men in windbreakers with FBI stamped in gold letters across the back stepped out, rifles raised.
"Callum Voss!" one of the agents shouted. "Hands where we can see them! You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit municipal fraud and obstruction of justice!"
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Callum froze, his face turning completely white. He looked at Isla, then at Roman, then at the federal agents closing in on him. He slowly raised his hands, collapsing onto his knees on the stone steps.
Roman looked down at him, his expression completely blank. "The architecture of a cage, Callum. Enjoy the view."
