Chapter 6 - The Torn Pocket and the Cryptic Flash Drive
The black sedan tore away from the curb with a screech of burning rubber, leaving my father and me coughing in the thick cloud of exhaust and concrete dust.
I fell hard onto my knees against the gritty pavement, my hands stinging, but my fingers were tightly clenched around a small, heavy object I had ripped from Arthur’s coat pocket during the scuffle.
My father rushed to my side, his hands gently gripping my shoulders as he helped me stand.
"Are you hurt, Maya? Damn it, that was too dangerous," he scolded, though his eyes were full of profound relief and respect.
"I’m fine, Dad. Look," I panted, opening my palm to reveal a small, matte-black encrypted flash drive bearing the logo of an offshore Swiss bank.
Julian stared at the drive, his breathing heavy in the cool garage air as the distant wail of police sirens finally grew loud enough to rattle the overhead pipes.
"This isn't just about the foundation embezzlement," Julian whispered, his face turning pale under the amber emergency lights.
"That specific encryption protocol belongs to the Vance Global Holdings board. Arthur wasn't just stealing from the charity—he was using the charity to launder money for an international syndicate."
Before we could catch our breath, two unmarked police cruisers rounded the concrete corner with tires screeching, their blinding headlights pinning us against the pillar.
Officers poured out of the vehicles, guns drawn, shouting commands for us to halt and identify ourselves.
"Stand down! I am Julian Vance, founder of this institution," my father called out, raising his hands slowly while stepping in front of me to shield the flash drive in my hand.
A senior detective stepped forward, his badge gleaming in the cruiser's red and blue glare, his expression severe.
"Mr. Vance, we received an anonymous tip that you and your daughter orchestrated the gala embezzlement yourself," the detective said, resting his hand on his holster.
May you like
As the cold metal of handcuffs clicked onto my father’s wrists, I thrust the flash drive toward the detective and shouted out a name that stopped the officers in their tracks.
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