Chapter 9: The Extraction Team
The helicopter hovered effortlessly above the yacht's upper deck, kicking up a fierce gale of salt spray and wind that battered the glass windows of the penthouse suite. The heavy thrum of its twin rotors vibrated through the floorboards, drowning out the ambient sounds of the ocean. Through the sliding glass doors, I watched as a thick tactical rope dropped from the belly of the aircraft, followed swiftly by four operatives sliding down with practiced, flawless coordination.
They wore matte-black tactical gear bearing the insignia of naval special warfare command. No words were wasted; they moved with the familiar, silent choreography of operators who lived in the shadows.
I set my champagne glass down on the marble table, smoothed the emerald silk of my slip dress, and walked out onto the deck to meet them. The lead operator stepped forward, lowering his night-vision goggles to his forehead. He took off his helmet, revealing weathered features and sharp, intelligent eyes that immediately recognized the bearing beneath the high-fashion attire.
"Agent Vance," he said, using the name I had carried in the field before the Montgomery assignment swallowed me up. "Glad to see the package was delivered."
"The package delivered itself, Captain," I replied, my voice steady against the howling wind of the rotors. "The primary server data, offshore ledgers, and communication encryption keys are loaded onto the secure drive inside my clutch."
The captain nodded, a faint ghost of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. "Command received the telemetry ten minutes ago. The global asset freeze is already in motion. Montgomery’s entire network is locked down tighter than a vault."
"Good," I said, gesturing toward the master suite behind me. "He’s currently locked inside the walk-in closet. He was under the impression we were still out in international waters with no one listening."
Two of the operators immediately moved past me toward the suite, their boots heavy on the teak deck. Moments later, the muffled shouting and protests of Montgomery echoed through the open doorway as the heavy mahogany closet door was pried open and he was hauled out into the light, his gray trousers rumpled, his black shirt stained with sweat, his face pale with sudden, crushing defeat.
They marched him out onto the deck, his hands secured behind his back with heavy plastic restraints. He caught sight of me standing near the glass railing, holding my champagne glass with effortless composure.
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"You set me up," Montgomery snarled, his voice cracking with humiliation. "You played the role for three years just for this?"
"I didn't play a role, Montgomery," I said, looking down at him coolly. "I just waited for you to give me a reason."
