Chapter 7 - Sabotage on the Tarmac
The ringing of the telephone seemed to echo inside the cavernous study like an alarm bell. Lorenzo didn’t hesitate; he strode past Elena, snatched the receiver directly from Clara’s trembling hand, and pressed it to his ear.
"This is Lorenzo Vance. Report," he commanded, his voice tight and authoritative.
A heavy burst of static crackled through the line, followed by the frantic voice of the chief airfield supervisor. "Mr. Vance, we have an unauthorized vehicle breaching the private hangar perimeter. Security patrol intercepted a maintenance van trying to slip out through the northern service gate. More importantly—sensors on your Gulfstream’s hydraulic lines are showing a massive pressure drop. Someone severed the main braking cables."
Elena scrambled to her feet, leaning against the edge of the mahogany desk for balance, her eyes wide with fresh terror. "What? Who would do that?" she gasped, her mind racing through a dozen desperate calculations.
Lorenzo ignored her completely, keeping his eyes locked on the terrified maid standing in the doorway. "Did security catch the driver of the van?"
"They got the vehicle, sir, but the driver bailed into the perimeter woods," the supervisor replied over the phone, his breathing heavy. "We found a toolkit left behind in the back seat. And Vance? There’s something else. The local police department just called the hangar office. They received an anonymous tip claiming your private jet was scheduled to transport unregistered financial assets out of the country tonight."
A cold sweat broke out across the back of Lorenzo’s neck. He slowly pulled the phone away from his ear, his jaw tightening until the muscle feathered visibly beneath his styled dark beard.
"Lock down the estate perimeter," Lorenzo said into the receiver, his tone turning into pure ice. "Double the guard at the front gates and seal every exit. Nobody enters or leaves without my explicit written authorization. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mr. Vance. On it immediately." The line clicked dead.
Lorenzo lowered the phone, turning his severe gaze slowly back toward his wife. Elena took an involuntary step backward, her white dress rustling against the Persian rug as she raised her hands in a defensive gesture.
"Don't look at me like that!" Elena cried out, her voice pitching upward in panic. "You think I did this? Why would I sabotage the very plane you claim we need to take to Zurich? That makes no sense!"
"It makes perfect sense if you never intended for us to reach Zurich," Lorenzo said quietly, taking a slow, menacing step toward her. "If my sister is alive and talking, and you can't silence her in person, the next best thing is to ensure nobody can reach her at all—or better yet, make sure the plane carrying us goes down over the Atlantic."
Elena stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth opening in silent shock as the sheer weight of his accusation settled over the room like a physical blow.
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Before Lorenzo could reach her, the overhead lights in the study flickered violently once, twice, and then died completely, plunging the grand room into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
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