Chapter 10 - The Safehouse Ambush
The van rocked violently as Miller hit the ground, slamming the front door shut. Through the tinted windshield, Claire saw they had pulled into a derelict industrial park on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by rusted shipping containers and overgrown weeds. Rain lashed against the metal roof of the vehicle in a steady, drumming roar.
"Stay in the van. Do not move," Miller barked through the partition window before disappearing into the downpour.
Daniel lunged forward, pressing his face against the glass. "Miller, wait! This is a secondary extraction point—they shouldn't know about this location!"
A series of sharp, rhythmic cracks echoed through the rain—gunfire. Not suppressed this time, but loud, echoing pistol shots that reverberated off the metal shipping containers.
Elena pulled her knees up to her chest, her face pale with terror. "I thought you said the federal government was protecting you! Those men are shooting at us!"
"Miller is government," Daniel insisted, though his own voice lacked conviction. "The people chasing us... they’re the syndicate's enforcement arm. They must have tracked the van’s GPS tracker."
Claire grabbed the manila folder from her lap, flipping through the pages until her eyes landed on a highlighted transfer document dated just two days ago. The destination account wasn't an offshore cartel account at all. It was an IRS trust fund account tied directly to a federal witness protection program reserve.
"Daniel," Claire said, her voice eerily calm despite the gunfire outside. "Look at this routing number. This isn't a cartel account. This is a government asset recovery fund. You aren't laundering money for them. You’ve been slowly draining their slush fund and moving it into federal custody."
Daniel blinked, leaning over to inspect the paper. "That's... that's impossible. I didn't set those routing numbers. Miller did."
Suddenly, the side door of the van was yanked open with explosive force. Rain blasted inside, soaking their clothes. But it wasn't Miller standing on the wet pavement.
It was a tall, scarred man in a drenched trench coat, holding a heavy-caliber pistol pointed directly at Daniel’s chest.
"Vance," the scarred man growled, his voice a gravelly rasp. "Hand over the flash drive. Or your two lovely wives bleed out on this floor right now."
Daniel froze, his hands hovering over the open duffel bag. Claire’s heart hammered against her ribs, but her hand stealthily slid down toward the heavy metal buckle of her designer handbag resting on the floor.
"I don't have the flash drive," Daniel lied steadily, his eyes fixed on the gun barrel. "Miller took it."
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The scarred man laughed, stepping one boot onto the van's floorboards. "Miller is working both sides, you idiot. Now give me the drive, or I start with the blonde in the blue dress."
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