Chapter 11 - The Subterranean Safehouse
The secure elevator hummed softly as it lifted Arthur, Marcus, and a handcuffed Meridian operative upward through the reinforced core of the Vanguard headquarters skyscraper, bypassing the empty lower floors and heading directly toward the private residential penthouse suite on the thirtieth floor. The harsh fluorescent lighting of the elevator cabin reflected off the polished steel walls, framing Arthur’s unyielding posture as he stood with his hands locked behind his back, staring at the digital floor numbers ticking upward: 24, 25, 26...
"You walked right into our kill zone, Vance," the captured operative muttered from the corner, his voice muffled behind the matte-black composite helmet. "Even if you have the girl, Meridian owns the board. The emergency restructuring vote was scheduled for sunrise, and without your signature, the federal injunction dissolves automatically at noon."
Arthur didn't turn around. He didn't even acknowledge the man’s existence, treating him with the absolute, chilling indifference one might accord a broken piece of machinery.
Marcus, standing beside the control panel, kept his sidearm casually aimed at the operative’s knee. "Keep talking, tough guy. Every word you say goes straight into the federal wiretap recording we initiated the moment you dropped your rifle in the garage. By noon today, your little defense contracting firm won't even exist on paper."
Ding.
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The elevator doors slid open smoothly with a soft chime, revealing a sprawling, ultra-modern penthouse suite designed with floor-to-ceiling glass wall
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