Chapter 7 - The Confrontation
The ballroom became dead silent.
Sterling didn't look flustered. He stood on the elevated stage, looking down at Harrison with a cold, mocking amusement.
“Harrison,” Sterling purred, resting his hands on the podium. “So good of you to join us. I see you brought Arthur Bennett’s little girl as your date. How charming. Did she tell you about the shoes?”
Claire stepped up beside Harrison, her posture erect, her blue eyes burning with pure contempt. “My father is alive, Sterling. He’s safe. And he’s already provided the federal authorities with your complete toxicity reports from St. Jude’s.”
Sterling let out a dry, barking laugh. “Federal authorities? My dear girl, do you really think I didn't foresee that?”
Sterling pulled a small black remote control from his tuxedo pocket and pressed the central red button.
CLICK.
Instantly, every emergency exit door around the ballroom slammed shut with a deafening mechanical deadbolt sound. Iron security shutters rolled down over the floor-to-ceiling windows, sealing the three hundred guests inside the grand hall.
Panic erupted among the wealthy elites. Women screamed, men shouted, rushing toward the sealed doors.
“SILENCE!” Sterling roared through the microphone.
Fourteen heavily armed mercenaries wearing dark tactical uniforms emerged from the balcony levels above, their automatic weapons trained down on the trapped crowd.
Harrison stepped in front of Claire, shielding her with his body, his eyes locked onto Sterling. “You won't get out of Chicago alive, Richard.”
“I don't need to get out of Chicago, Harrison,” Sterling smiled, stepping down from the stage, flanked by two armed guards. “I just need your bio-metric signature to release the Swiss trust fund. And once I have it… this entire hotel will suffer a tragic gas explosion, eliminating every board member who ever stood in my way.”
Sterling reached into his coat and pulled out an electronic thumb-scanner pad.
“Give me your thumbprint, Harrison,” Sterling demanded, raising a pistol toward Harrison’s chest. “Or I kill Miss Bennett right here on this floor.”
Claire grabbed Harrison’s arm, her voice steady despite the guns pointed at them. “Don't do it, Harrison. He’ll kill us all anyway.”
Harrison looked at Sterling. Then he looked up at the high ceiling of the ballroom, where a small red laser light was blinking near the central chandelier.
A subtle, cold smile touched Harrison’s face.
“You always were terrible at tactical planning, Richard,” Harrison said softly.
“What?” Sterling frowned.
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“I didn't bring federal authorities, Richard,” Harrison whispered. “I brought my own army.”
Harrison raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
