Chapter 23 - Midnight over Lake Geneva
The private Gulfstream jet touched down on the snow-swept runway of Geneva Airport at 2:00 AM local time.
Outside, a biting Alpine wind howled across Lake Geneva, throwing swirls of ice against the black tinted windows of the armored Mercedes sedan waiting on the tarmac.
Claire wore a heavy white cashmere coat over an emerald-green silk blouse, her gloved hands tucked into her pockets. Beside her, Marcus pulled a suppressed 9mm sidearm from his shoulder holster, checked the magazine with practice speed, and chambered a round before re-holstering it under his dark wool coat.
"Banque de Genève is forty stories of steel, granite, and bulletproof glass," Marcus said as the Mercedes sped through the deserted, snow-covered streets of the banking district. "The vault is buried six floors beneath the lakebed. Once we go down, we lose satellite communications with Reynolds’ team."
"Then we rely on ourselves," Claire said, pulling a tiny silver device from her purse. "I had Reynolds’ tech division install a localized frequency jammer into my compact mirror. If Victor’s men try to trigger an electronic lock-in, this will buy us ten minutes of manual overrides."
Marcus looked at her, a low, proud rumble escaping his chest. "I picked the right queen."
"You didn't pick me, Marcus," Claire smirked softly. "We found each other in the storm."
Ten minutes later, they stood inside the opulent, silent lobby of Banque de Genève. The chief vault keeper, an elderly Swiss man named Herr Weber who had served the Sterling family for forty years, greeted them with a solemn bow.
"Mr. Sterling. Mrs. Sterling," Weber bowed. "Your father’s instructions were very specific. Should you ever present the silver key, you were to be brought down immediately. Alone."
"Lead the way, Weber," Marcus said, keeping one hand inside his coat pocket, his eyes constantly scanning the shadows of the marble pillars.
The private elevator descended silently into the bowels of the bank. The air grew colder, heavy with the scent of damp stone and old steel. When the doors slid open, they faced a massive reinforced titanium vault door glowing under harsh halogen lights.
Weber stepped aside, entering a master keycard into the console. "Insert the silver key, Mr. Sterling. Then place your palm on the biometric scanner."
Marcus stepped forward. He slid the silver key into the narrow slot. The vault mechanism groaned with a deep, heavy pneumatic hiss. A green light illuminated his face as he pressed his hand to the scanner.
DNA VERIFIED: STERLING, MARCUS ARTHUR.
The massive six-ton door slowly swung open, revealing a small, wood-paneled room containing a single brass safety-deposit box on a pedestal.
Marcus stepped inside, reaching for the box.
Suddenly, a loud, metallic CLANG echoed through the corridor.
May you like
The heavy titanium vault door slammed shut with terrifying speed, sealing them inside the soundproof, air-gapped vault.
The overhead lights died, plunging them into pitch-black darkness.
