Chapter 9 - The Federal Trap
At 1:00 AM, in a luxurious private suite overlooking the waterfront, Julian Mercer sat before a array of four high-end monitors. A green progress bar on the central screen reached 99%.
Brent sat across from him, clutching a glass of expensive scotch he had poured himself from Julian’s bar.
"It’s almost complete," Julian said, his eyes fixated on the glowing screen. "The rootkit is executing. In five minutes, her core algorithm will be corrupted, and our automated short-positions on Vance Tech stock will trigger, yielding us over eighty million dollars by market open."
Brent took a deep drink of the scotch, feeling the warm burn slide down his throat. "And my share?"
"Ten million dollars," Julian lied effortlessly, having already arranged for Brent’s Cayman account to be wiped the moment the transaction closed. "Enough for you to buy a new mansion, Brent."
Suddenly, the green progress bar on the central monitor turned bright crimson.
A sharp, piercing alert chimed through the room’s speakers.
Julian jumped out of his chair, his face instantly turning pale. "What is this?! What did you do?!"
"I didn't do anything!" Brent panicked, setting his glass down so hard the scotch spilled over the glass table. "Marcus said he plugged it in!"
The central monitor screen flickered. The crimson text disappeared, replaced by a high-definition video feed.
Tessa Vance appeared on the screen. She was sitting in her home office, dressed in a black silk robe, holding a cup of tea. She looked directly into the camera with a calm, amused expression.
"Hello, Julian. Hello, Brent," Tessa’s voice chimed clearly through the high-end speakers.
Julian slammed his hands onto the desk. "Tessa! How did you—"
"Did you really believe that Marcus Vance—a man whose sister’s life was saved by my foundation—would betray me for a handful of offshore cash?" Tessa asked, taking a slow, deliberate sip of her tea. "You broke into my network, Julian. But you didn't break into my main server. You broke into a honeypot I constructed specifically to trace your illegal capital flows."
Brent felt his chest collapse. "Tessa... please! I was forced into this! Julian made me do it!"
"Shut up, Brent!" Julian screamed, frantically trying to pull the power cables from his computer rig.
"It's too late to unplug it, Julian," Tessa said smoothly from the screen. "My security team has already initiated a forced lock on your Swiss accounts using the federal cyber-espionage warrant signed by Judge Harrison an hour ago. Every dollar you used to fund this operation has been seized by the Department of Justice."
A loud, thunderous boom echoed through the suite’s front door.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! OPEN THE DOOR! WE HAVE A WARRANT!"
Julian froze, his hands trembling over the severed power cables.
Brent fell to his knees on the carpet, his face buried in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. "No... no... not prison... please, Tessa, not prison..."
On the monitor screen, Tessa leaned forward, her face filling the display.
"You took my kindness for weakness two years ago, Brent," she said, her voice dropping into a register of final, absolute doom. "You thought because I was a mother, I was soft. You thought you could steal my life, my home, and my child. Now, you will spend the next fifteen years in a federal penitentiary realizing just how wrong you were."
The heavy mahogany front door of the suite burst inward with a deafening crash.
A dozen tactical federal agents poured into the room, their weapons raised, laser sights painting red dots across Julian’s and Brent’s chests.
"ON THE GROUND! DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!" the lead agent roared.
Julian raised his hands slowly, his face drained of all color, his empire and wealth evaporating into thin air.
Brent was tackled to the floor, his arms forcibly pulled behind his back as steel handcuffs clicked tightly around his wrists. As his face was pressed against the cold marble floor, he looked up at the monitor screen one last time.
May you like
Tessa offered a single, cool smile, then closed her laptop.
The screen went black.
