Chapter 11 - The Ascent to the Roof
Marcus didn't hesitate. He grabbed the rungs of the swinging rope ladder, pulling his weight upward as fast as his burning muscles would allow. The vertical shaft was narrow, dark, and smelled heavily of heated copper and damp concrete. He climbed hand over hand, ignoring the throbbing pain in his blistered palms until his head finally broke through the upper hatch into the crisp, biting night air.
He hauled himself out onto the flat, gravel-covered roof of the skyscraper. The wind up here was fierce, whipping his dark jacket around his legs and chilling the sweat on his skin instantly. Below him, the sprawling grid of the downtown city lights stretched out like a vast sea of neon stars, completely detached from the nightmare unfolding inside the building.
Marcus dropped to his hands and knees, taking deep, gasping breaths of the cold oxygen. He was on the roof, but he was trapped. The exit hatch behind him clicked shut with an automatic lock, and the surrounding perimeter was a sheer, hundred-story drop into the concrete canyons below.
As he stood up, brushing the grit from his black trousers, a figure stepped out from the shadows of the central communication tower thirty feet away.
It wasn't David. It was the man who had called himself Detective Vance. He wasn't wearing his trench coat anymore; instead, he wore a tailored dark suit, and in his right hand, he held a sleek, professional satellite phone.
"You're remarkably persistent, Mr. Vance," the man said, his voice carrying clearly over the howling wind. His tone wasn't hostile; it was disturbingly calm, almost conversational.
Marcus stepped forward defensively, his fists clenched at his sides. "Who are you? You're not police."
"I am a consultant," the man replied smoothly, tapping the screen of his satellite phone. "Hired by the board to ensure a seamless transition of power. Your little security empire was bleeding capital into unsustainable R&D projects, Marcus. We simply stepped in to stop the hemorrhaging."
"By murdering my wife?" Marcus snarled, taking another step forward.
"Cali was an unfortunate variable," the consultant replied without a shred of remorse. "She refused to sign the nondisclosure agreements. David lost his temper—he always was the emotional one. My job was merely to manage the fallout. Unfortunately, your presence has complicated the cleanup."
Marcus looked around frantically for an escape route, but the roof was a dead end. There was no helicopter waiting, no second ladder, no way down except the way he had come—right back into a building controlled by killers.
"The board thinks they've won," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a cold, steady register as he calculated his final gamble. "They haven't. Before I came up here, I set a timed data drop to transmit every single offshore bank record and acquisition file to federal authorities the moment my heartbeat monitor stops broadcasting."
The consultant paused, his thumb hovering over the satellite phone screen. For the first time, a flicker of genuine uncertainty crossed his perfectly composed face.
"You're bluffing," the consultant said, though his voice lacked its previous absolute conviction.
"Try me," Marcus challenged, stepping closer to the edge of the roof.
May you like
Before the consultant could reply, a loud mechanical crash echoed from the maintenance access stairs behind them as the heavy steel door was blown off its hinges from below.
---
