Chapter 10
The cold steel of the Swiss security guard’s weapon barrel caught the dim light of the brass desk lamp, casting a menacing reflection across the polished oak table. Sarafina froze, her hands hovering inches from the microcassette recorder and the green wax seal. Victoria didn't flinch; she slowly stood up, keeping her hands visible and well away from her blazer pockets.
“There’s been a mistake,” Victoria said, her voice dropping into an authoritative, unyielding tone. “We are operating under the direct jurisdiction of the U.S. Federal Marshals and the Swiss Banking Commission. Show me the warrant.”
The lead guard kept his weapon leveled at Sarafina as a second guard stepped forward, unfolding a digital tablet that displayed an official Interpol seal flashing in aggressive crimson.
“Warrant number IT-8849-NY, issued ten minutes ago by the international crimes division,” the guard read aloud, his eyes fixed on Sarafina. “Charges: conspiracy to commit federal fraud, liquidation of eighty-two million dollars in illicit assets, and the attempted poisoning of Julian Vance.”
Sarafina felt the room spin violently around her. “Poisoning? Julian is alive! He was arrested in Manhattan just hours ago!”
“Julian Vance was pronounced dead at New York Presbyterian Hospital thirty minutes after arriving in federal custody,” the guard stated flatly. “Severe acute cardiac arrest induced by a heavy metal toxin matching the exact compound found in your father’s estate files.”
Sarafina dropped back into her chair, the breath entirely knocked out of her lungs. Julian was dead? The man who had manipulated her, stolen her inheritance, and framed her for his crimes had been silenced before he could ever stand trial. And the syndicate had immediately pivoted, framing her for his murder using the very same toxicological profile her father had suffered from.
“It’s a frame-up,” Victoria said, stepping smoothly between the guards and Sarafina. “The syndicate is executing a clean sweep. If Sarafina goes to Interpol, she’ll never make it to a courtroom alive.”
“Step away from the table, Madam,” the lead guard warned, clicking the safety off his weapon. “We have orders to transport Mrs. Vance to Zurich Central holding facility immediately.”
Sarafina looked down at the weathered leather journal resting on the oak table. Her father’s final words echoed in her mind—*Use it to expose the syndicate.* If she let these guards take her to the holding facility, the journal would be confiscated, locked away in an evidence locker, and buried forever under layers of international red tape.
With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Sarafina swept the journal and the brass key off the table, shoving them deep into the pockets of her trench coat.
“Don't move!” the guard shouted, lunging forward.
Before the guard could grab her wrist, Victoria reached into her blazer and tossed a small, cylindrical smoke grenade onto the floor between them. A dense, blinding cloud of white vapor instantly filled the small consultation room, accompanied by a sharp, piercing alarm siren that echoed down the stone corridors of the depository.
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“Run!” Victoria yelled through the smoke, grabbing Sarafina by the arm and dragging her toward the emergency service exit at the back of the lounge.
They burst through the heavy steel emergency door into the freezing night air of the Swiss Alps, sprinting blindly across the snow-covered tarmac toward a waiting private helicopter whose rotors were already spinning at maximum velocity.
