Chapter 12 - The Race to the Hangar
The control room hummed with the synchronized power of a dozen enterprise servers. Victor dropped into the high-backed leather chair in front of the primary console, his fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard with blistering speed. Lines of code and system overrides scrolled rapidly down the massive central monitor as he fought to bypass Julian’s administrative blockade.
"Bypass successful," a synthetic automated voice chimed from the terminal speakers. "Master override engaged. Grounding all private air traffic within a ten-mile radius."
On the external surveillance feed displayed on the left monitor, the twin-engine helicopter on the private helipad had just lifted off the concrete pad, its landing gear retracting into the fuselage. But the moment Victor’s override signal hit the regional aviation grid, the helicopter’s navigational lights flashed a warning red, and the onboard flight computer automatically initiated a forced landing sequence back onto the tarmac.
"Got you," Victor muttered under his breath, a grim satisfaction flashing in his dark eyes.
He didn't waste a second. He grabbed a heavy tactical key ring from the console desk, turned away from the monitors, and bolted back toward the private underground access tunnel that connected the mansion directly to the aircraft hangar.
Behind him, the lead security guard hurried to keep pace. "Mr. Sterling, if Julian is cornered at the helipad, he might be desperate. We need to approach with extreme caution."
"He took my son," Victor replied without slowing down, his voice carrying an arctic chill that brooked no argument. "He won't leave this property alive if a single hair on that boy's head is harmed."
The underground tunnel was lit by intermittent emergency bulbs, casting long, frantic shadows as they ran. At the end of the corridor, a heavy steel fire door led directly out into the private hangar where the grounded helicopter sat idling on the tarmac, its rotors slowing down under the automated override command.
Victor shoved the heavy door open, stepping out into the cold night air. The wind whipped his black suit jacket around him as he raised his firearm, training the barrel directly on the open cabin door of the twin-engine aircraft thirty yards away.
May you like
Julian stood in the doorway of the helicopter cabin, holding the infant securely against his chest. He didn't look panicked; instead, a cold, mocking smile played across his lips as he looked down at his older brother standing defiantly in the rain-slicked tarmac.
---
