CHAPTER 5: Midnight Shadows
Three men in dark windbreakers stepped through the shattered glass, their faces obscured by ski masks. The leader carried a silenced compact pistol.
“Kids into the back pantry. Now!” Marcus shouted, his military training instantly kicking in as he ushered the crying children through the rear fire exit.
Julian didn't run. He stood in the center of the recreation room, under the flickering fluorescent light, holding the bronze signet loosely in his palm.
“Pierre didn't even have the courage to come himself,” Julian said calmly.
The lead gunman didn't talk. He raised the pistol, aiming directly at Julian’s chest. “Drop the box, old man. We only want the seal.”
“This seal doesn't open bank accounts,” Julian replied, stepping forward instead of retreating. “It opens minds. But you wouldn't know the difference.”
The gunman lunged forward to strike Julian with the butt of the weapon. Julian sidestepped cleanly, his old habits from dockyard labor giving him deceptive speed. He grabbed the attacker's wrist, twisted it sharply, and drove his heel into the man's knee. The gun clattered across the linoleum floor.
The other two thugs rushed him. Julian parried a heavy hook, taking a glancing blow to his shoulder before driving an elbow into the second man’s ribs.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
“Move! Out!” the lead thug hissed, clutching his dislocated wrist and scrambling toward the back alley.
Julian stood breathing heavily in the quiet room. On the floor lay a dropped smartphone. It lit up with a single text message:
**[Sender: Pierre]** *“If you have it, bring it to Warehouse 4 at the harbor. Kazarian is already here.”*
May you like
Julian picked up the phone, his jaw set like iron. “Marcus,” he called out. “Call Genevieve. It’s time for the final exhibition.”
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