Chapter 13 - Into the Flames
The searing heat of the portable incinerator bit into Julian’s flesh like a thousand burning needles, but blind desperation fueled his movements. He ignored the smell of burning skin and the sharp agony shooting up his right arm as his fingers scraped against the cold, ridged metal of the titanium flash drive buried beneath the burning paper ash. With a ragged cry, he jerked his hand backward, clutching the scorched drive tightly in his fist just as a heavy timber beam crashed down from the ceiling, blocking the doorway entirely.
"Sir! Step away from the fire!" one of the tactical operatives yelled, grabbing Sarah by her tactical vest while dragging her backward through the billowing smoke toward the shattered window.
"We’re losing the structural integrity of this wing! Move, move, move!"
Coughing uncontrollably, Julian stumbled out onto the gravel terrace through the broken window, collapsing onto his hands and knees as the cool night air hit his burning face. He looked down at his right hand; the palm was blistered and blackened, the silver casing of the titanium drive smeared with soot and his own blood.
Clara and Marcus rushed over instantly. Clara dropped to her knees beside him, her face pale with shock as she took in his smoking jacket and severe burns.
"Julian, you’re insane," Clara gasped, pulling a clean silk handkerchief from her pocket to wrap loosely around his scorched hand.
"Why would you risk your life for that drive? It’s probably encrypted beyond recovery anyway."
Julian grit his teeth against the searing pain, holding up the scorched metal object like a sacred relic.
"Sarah... Sarah said Arthur owns the prosecutors," Julian wheezed, struggling to catch his breath.
"This drive isn't for the federal investigators. It’s the master decryption key to the offshore backup servers in Zurich. If we upload this to the global financial network before sunrise, Arthur’s entire empire collapses simultaneously."
Marcus stepped up behind Clara, his dark eyes scanning the perimeter where the federal vehicles were now evacuating the board members as the mansion fire spread rapidly toward the second-floor bedrooms.
"If we do that, we’re implicating ourselves in the original wire fraud," Marcus warned, his voice grim and analytical.
"Every single offshore account tied to this estate will be made public, including the ones holding our own contingency funds."
Julian let out a bitter, exhausted laugh, leaning his head back against the stone pillar of the terrace.
"There are no contingency funds left, Marcus," Julian said softly, closing his eyes as the flashing red lights danced across his face.
"Arthur emptied every account we had at noon today. We’re already ruined. This is the only way to make sure he goes down with us."
Before Clara could answer, a piercing, high-pitched alarm began to wail across the entire Wellington estate, drowning out the crackle of the flames and the shouting of the firefighters. The massive iron gates at the end of the long driveway slowly swung open on their own, and a single, unmarked black limousine glided through the smoke-filled entrance, its headlights completely extinguished.
The limousine came to a smooth, silent stop right at the base of the terrace steps. The rear door opened, and a pair of polished leather shoes stepped out onto the gravel.
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It wasn't a federal agent. It was Arthur Pendelton, wearing a fresh charcoal suit, holding a silver umbrella to shield himself from the falling ash.
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